


Keystone

by atomicchronicle



Series: Twin Cities [2]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Canonical Character Death, Drama, F/M, Graphic Description, Original Character(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Science Fiction, Superheroes, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-11-18
Packaged: 2018-05-14 01:35:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 60,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5724556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atomicchronicle/pseuds/atomicchronicle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Central City wasn't the only place effected by the particle accelerator explosion. Not all meta-humans are powerful and/or evil. Some just want to be able to control their powers and live a normal life.</p><p>OR</p><p>An OC-centric story set in Keystone. (Grab your chips. Things could get cheesy)<br/>This story does not need to be read with Central City to be understood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Origin (of Sorts)

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 2 of Keystone corresponds to Chapter 1 of Central City. The series (hopefully) can be read together or separate. That is my intention.
> 
> Also, I will NOT be having Cameron Scott be Captain Atom. He might have powers or similarities to Allen Adam's backstory (both to be determined), but as far as I'm concerned for this chapter, Cameron is just a name I happened to use.

Ana limped up the final steps, supporting most of her weight on the aging wood handrail. She wedged herself through the door and onto the roof. Monique was already reclined on one of the lawn chairs kept there. She held a huge bowl of popcorn between her legs. One of Ana's beers sat next to her, and she sipped from it. Staying with the out-of-character themes, she was in a set of uncoordinated set of pajamas and she wore no wig. Just the half-inch of inky black hair. No makeup to be spoken of.

"It's not even nine," Ana teased. "You can't turn into a pumpkin just yet."

"You're supposed to be on a date," Monique accused, managing an overfull mouth of popcorn.

"I told him I had a broken ankle," Ana said, easing herself onto a chair. "He decided that we should reschedule for another day."

"And that day is tomorrow?" Monique asked.

"Yup," Ana said, pulling her camera from its bag.

"Good girl," Monique said. She realized what Ana was doing and held out a salty hand as if to catch the lens. "Ana, if you take a picture of me like this, I will hurt you."

"Come on," Ana said. "This is a big momentous occasion in human history or...for science. We must document. I promise, I will not Instagram this. But I make no promises about the government satellites above us."

"Ha ha," Monique said, brushing bits of popcorn off herself. She pat herself, as if to assure herself that everything was still there. Ana took the opportunity to adjust her camera to the light.

The two of them leaned in, smiling. When Ana turned the camera around, Monique groaned.

"My hair," she said. "Ugh. This is why I wear a wig."

“You’re fine,” Ana said. "It's not like you don't look amazing ninety percent of the time."

"You're not too sorry about the change of plans," Monique said. She licked the salt off her fingers, waiting for an answer.

Ana turned the camera over in her hands, shrugging. "I don't know. He's athletic and hot and a cop and...He's great. But...I guess I'm still not over Troy."

Monique groaned. "Jeezus. Not Troy again."

Ana shared the sentiment. But it had been great with Troy. Everything had. She'd had a good, steady job. A caring, loving boyfriend. All her friends still lived in town - or at least not further then Central City. Her family was whole. And then Troy had left, and it all seemed to fall apart. It had been over a year, and she still thought of him. Maybe she was better off on a roof with Monique, ready to take pictures of history.

"Why isn't Mom here?" Monique asked.

“She’s going to try to catch up on _Game of Thrones_ ,” Ana said. “She said she’d look out the window when the accelerator is supposed to turn on.”

“Why don't we watch this tomorrow?” Monique asked, waving a hand towards Star Labs. “Or I can set up my laptop to livestream it. You can keep an eye on this ‘momentous occasion’ while we watch people have sex and kill each other.”

“This is different,” Ana said. “It’s not like it’s a solar eclipse on the other side of the world. This is history made right in front of us. I could’ve been right in there, but no. ‘Myshka, journalism isn’t a job. Myshka, newspapers are dying out’.”

"Why can you miss this for a date but not for a broken ankle?" Monique asked.

"Because you won't let me turn a date down," Ana said. "But you can't turn down an invalid's wish." Monique snorted, taking another drink.

The Star Labs particle accelerator loomed up from the bare empty space across the river. Tons of lights were on there, spotlighting the whole event. Ana adjusted her camera to compensate. She took a few sips of beer, waiting. And then, distinct counting started across the way. Ana held up her camera, waiting for it.

The only detectable change was a gentle thrum from the building. No fancy lights or lasers. Ana snapped a picture. CCPN probably had plenty. Not like she was going to be able to sell it - CCPN was terrible to freelance photographers. But it would be for her wall.

“That was…anticlimactic,” Monique said, getting to her feet. “I’m gunna go join Mom. She’s still about a season behind me.”

“I’m gunna stay here,” Ana said. This _couldn’t_ be it. There was a photo to be had here. She could feel it. No one had a view like this with Star Labs directly across the river, the skyline of Central City sort of fuzzy behind it. Like Star Labs took precedence over all things.

“Suit yourself,” Monique said. "Call if you need help down the stairs."

It didn’t take long for there to be a change in the thrumming. She heard a distinct _thunk_ even from where she sat. Ana held up her camera. The lights in the parking lot flickered. She shifted the shutter speed to accommodate high-speed action.

A beacon of red shot up, hitting the storm clouds above, lightning trailing behind it. Ana was pushed back onto her lawn chair by a clear wave that seemed to set her whole body on fire. She felt like she was too hot. The electricity from just inside the accelerator clawed outward, like it was trying to grab anything and everything to destroy.

When the beacon hit the clouds, a red wave moved outward, swift and constant. When it hit Ana, still crackling with fingers of electricity, her body suddenly felt cold, inside and out. It was like one of those days so cold that it hurt to even breathe.

A finger of red electricity whipped down from the sky, striking her through. Ana fell to the side, her jacket smoking.

  
Two weeks later...

Sludge pulsed around them all, thick and putrid. It filled so much of his vision that Brandy had to escape to the supply closet. He knelt there, panting.

 _Get a grip of yourself_ , Brandy told himself. He'd been through so much worse in his life. He'd seen worse. He'd dealt with worse.

The fact that he was hallucinating was not a good sign. Was it just stress? There was such a thing as getting temporary mental illnesses due to massive stress. Taking the wrong medication could cause hallucinations, but he didn't take medications. Did that mean that he'd been slipped some? Or was it a pre-existing condition finally showing up?

He stood up, getting ready to leave the supply closet. Jenna beat him to it. She wasn't covered in sludge in any particular place. More like she had a light sheen of it all over her body.

"Brandy, we need to talk," she said. She nodded for him to leave the supply closet. Brandy did as she motioned. She motioned for Brandy to follow her to the alcove where she gave people her Talks. Brandy almost wished she'd done it in the supply closet.

"What the hell is going on?" Jenna demanded. "I can't have you hiding in the supply closet all the time. I need to look at the patients - to look at their issues. You can't treat someone you're not looking at."

"I know, I know," Brandy said. "I think...something might be wrong with me. I made an appointment to see a psychiatrist. I-I'll have it cleared up ASAP. I promise."

Jenna let that sink in. She nodded.

"Don't let anyone higher up know," she said. "I'll try to cover for you. You have a month to get it together before I send you somewhere that you can handle." She pat his arm.

How embarrassing to have to admit that to his boss. This was the ER. The people who came in here depended on the staff to have their shit together. Nurses had to have level heads while they cared for the damaged people who came in.

_You're so weak. Pathetic. You can't help people if you're weak._

Brandy flinched. His weakness was going to get someone hurt. Or worse.

  
Seven months later...

As far as Brandy was concerned, graveyard with the stiff breathers was the best shift.

When it was clear that it was going to take a while for Brandy to get his shit together, Jenna had helped him shuffle around. He couldn't handle the day shifts, so he started working the night shifts. Eventually, he settled into his favorite.

It was the quietest of shifts. The only time he was ever bothered was when a cop got lost on the way back to the morgue from the bathroom. It was just Brandy and the people who slept like the dead but breathed like the living. The souls caught in limbo. The comatose.

On cue, there was a disruption as homicide bustled around the morgue. Brandy got up, a bit curious. The detectives talked to Dr. Hammond, but Brandy didn't see the body.

Brandy turned away, looking to the two rows of patients he was in charge of. Sixteen people in all. Nine men, seven women. The most interesting was John Brown who'd collapsed in his barn one day. He'd climbed Mount Everest, been around the world in eighty days - twice, and then given up his life of travel to be a farmer. The longest there was Donald Jessup, a secretary for a lawnmowing company. He'd been here thirty-three years. The most recent was Anastasia Utkin, victim of the Star Labs particle accelerator explosion. A man by the name of Charles Bendixen had been in a coma once, woken up, then gone back into a coma a year later.

He liked looking at the sleepers. They were the only ones who didn't have the sludge around them. Well, not entirely. If Brandy looked close enough, they each had a light sheen of something swirling around them. But if he didn't focus, they looked like they were normal. He could pretend to be normal.

Today, Anastasia's sheen was easy enough to see. But it wasn't really...grotesque or thick. It was a vague grey-blue. Brandy turned away. If he went back to his book, he didn't have to look at anyone. He didn't have to pretend to be normal if there was no one to look at.

Every twenty minutes, Brandy got to his feet to do his rounds. The night fell back into its pace. Nothing out of the ordinary besides Dr. Hammond, the coroner. Brandy amounted to a glorified night guard with medical training. Then, nearly at the end of his shift, all his alarms for the coma patients started going off. He rushed into the room.

Anastasia was sitting up, pulling the feeding tube out of her mouth. She somehow didn't vomit as she did so. She was about to go for the breathing tube when he got to her.

"Anastasia, stop," Brandy said. "Hold on. You're in a hospital. You were in a coma. You can't take this tube out just yet. Bear with me."

For someone who hadn't moved in nine months, she was more than just strong. She was strong for someone who _hadn't_ been in a coma for nine months. Brandy got the distinct feeling that if she hadn't just awoken, he would've needed another orderly to subdue her.

He used his chin to activate the comm pinned to his scrubs.

"I'm gunna need some help in comatose," Brandy said. "A patient woke up."

  
“Go away,” Ana snapped, brushing the stethoscope away from her chest.

“I just need to check-”

“I don’t consent! _Go away_ ,” Ana said. What was it with nurses and being told no? She had to be rude to get any kind of traction in this hospital. She was perfectly capable of deciding for herself what she wanted.

“You just got out of a coma,” Nurse Brandy protested. “And I don’t think you’re atrophied even a little.”

“Listen, I appreciate your concern,” Ana said. “But you’re making me harassment-level uncomfortable. I’m going to go for a walk. I’ll stay on this floor; page me when my family arrives.”

She got to her feet, grabbing the IV that they refused to remove from her arm. Her legs felt really stiff, but not weak in any way. He kept trying to tell her that she’d been in a coma for seven and a half months. If that were the case, she wouldn’t be able to sit up, let alone walk.

The nurse let her leave. He’d probably tell the other nurses and orderlies to keep an eye on her. Not that there were many here. This appeared to be the basement. She even found the morgue. Someone inside was singing.

Yeah, she'd been in a coma for seven months. And when she left the hospital, the sky would be red and the ocean would be made entirely out of beer.

  
" _Seven months_?" Ana demanded. She was off by about two weeks, but who was counting any more?

Ana looked almost exactly as she had nine months ago. Maybe a little more chalky in skin texture. And she'd started to go grey. Otherwise, it was Ana in the flesh. Well and whole and fitting perfectly into Monique's arms.

Monique wanted to tell her sister everything. How Star had only made a small semblance of trying to undo the damage they'd caused. How businesses close to the wrecked building had suffered. The restaurant was recovering mostly due to her changing almost everything about it.

But most of all, she wanted to be the smaller sister again while she told Ana about everything with their mother. For now, she made do with the happiness of tangible proof that her sister was okay.

"Shouldn't we go home?" Ana asked. "If it's been seven months, Mom is gunna be worried about me."

Monique cringed. "About Mom..."

  
Just because time had held still for one person didn't mean that the whole world stopped. Ana stared at the headstone, finally set up next to Roman Utkin.

Elena was the woman who'd fought tooth and claw to with the heart of her husband. She'd worked for years to adopt two little girls. Most recently, she'd stood strong after life took her husband from her. Elena Utkin who'd cheated death so many times before had finally been taken down by traitor cells in her body.

And Ana had missed it.

Ana pressed her hands to the modest rock. Her skin caught a little in the fresh-cut lettering. They didn't break the skin. Ana half wished it would. A different kind of pain that would distract her from the one carving out her heart right now.

"The doctors said that she was in the late stages when they found it," Monique said. "Chemo wouldn't have done much. Bought her a month or two. That was six months ago."

"Was it the money?" Ana asked. Monique shrugged.

"I don't know. It could've been," she said. "But, I think she knew it was a bad bet. I think she knew that she'd miss you no matter what. She just...it's like she knew. It wasn't chance for her. But...she also started talking about Dad."

Ana looked up at her little - well, big little sister. She was thinner now, like she didn't eat much. And she looked tired, even with all her makeup on. Being on her own had taken its toll. Ana stood, throwing her arms around Monique's frame.

"You're not alone any more," Ana said. "I'm not leaving again. I promise." Monique wept into Ana's shoulder. Ana held her sister, trying to be strong even while the two of them cried.

  
Brandy tried to wrap his mind around it.

The...auras. He wasn't quite sure what they were. He had some theories, of course. But he'd never really been able to broach someone about helping him test them. But...Anastasia's aura had darkened quickly, and then she just woke up. People didn't just _wake up_ from a coma. That only happened in cheesy soaps.

Did Ana know something about this? His...condition? These hallucinations? She'd been _so_ strong for someone coming out of an seven month coma. She should've been subdued by a finger lightly pressing against her chest, not an ex-ER nurse and a coroner.

Brandy had already exhausted all other options, spending a lot of money getting his eyes and head checked. There wasn't really anything wrong with him. Some extra activity in his brain, but nothing that would worry anyone. None of the medications he'd tried had worked.

The sister - Monique - had been in often. She was an owner of a business not to far from St. Andrew's. There couldn't be anything wrong with stopping in.

  
In the absence of anyone to tell her no, Monique had redecorated the house. The couch and carpet had both been replaced. Monique had gotten the walls repainted a light butter yellow.

"I kept your room just like you left it," Monique said. "I couldn't bear to move anything around."

"Where's my camera?" Ana asked. Monique shook her head.

"You and your damn camera," she sighed. "It's in your room on your bed. I don't know if it still works."

Ana scrambled to her room, practically smashing the door open. Everything was exactly as she remembered it. Well, to her it had only been a few hours ago. Except one thing. Her camera lay on her bed. Ana picked it up, turning it over in her hands. There were some gouges on the outside where it had fallen. And the strap was melted.

She clicked it on, amazed when it worked. Ana had gotten all of them. Each and every picture of the accelerator explosion. Perfect. Ana wondered if she could still publish them. She was using them in her portfolio for sure. Ana just needed to get prints.

In the corner of the screen was the date. It really had been seven months. She sat down, trying to think of all the things she'd missed. She'd been asked to do a display at a gallery - something that was a month past. And spring was always a good time to take senior pictures. Her jobs had probably fired her. Or replaced her. And her renewal exam was long past due. So she couldn't work for Greyson anyway.

Unemployed. Unable to work. Missed opportunities to show off what she could do with a camera. Missed opportunities to see her mother off to the next world. She was lucky she still lived at home or she might not have a roof to return to. She got her ass handed to her by a male nurse and the wimpiest doctor she'd ever laid eyes on; there was no way she was going to be able to go back to being a personal trainer in the next two weeks.

But...it was all impossible. If she'd really been in a coma for _seven_ months, she'd be weak as a kitten. She'd need serious physical and occupational therapy. If she'd really been in a coma that long, then she'd either been a behemoth to start with or had somehow...not atrophied.

Looking back, the nurse's reaction had made sense. Her being in a coma any less time didn't make sense. The season had moved backwards. Too much had happened - the renovations in the house. Her mother's passing. And Monique wasn't the sort to make an immensely elaborate and cruel joke.

Ana set the camera down. What did this mean? What did she do with this information? Just keep trying to live her life like nothing had happened?

She touched some pictures on the wall. It was the same room she'd grown up in. It was still the first bed that she'd had all to herself. The room she'd first kissed Troy in. It was a world consumed with a life she would never reach again. And, if she'd died that night instead of going into a coma, that was how she would've died - still grasping desperately to the past.

  
Brandy wiped his face, ready for home. He tried to keep his eyes down, to see as few auras as possible. Few people had really bad auras on their feet.

"Hey, man, heading out?" Ethan asked, tapping Brandy on the arm. Brandy looked up. Ethan was perhaps the first person almost completely devoid of any aura whatsoever. He had a slight haze around his temples and knees. Apart from those, it was like he was completely clean.

"Y-yeah," Brandy said.

"Got a minute?" Ethan asked. Brandy nodded. "I was wondering if you're doing okay. I mean, I sometimes saw you when you were coming down from oncology, but...how are you?"

Brandy shuddered at the thought of oncology. The few nights he'd worked there had been hell. He couldn't get away from the auras there.

"I'm doing a lot better now," he said. "Especially now that I'm in coma. I really like it there."

"That's awesome," Ethan said. "You know, if you give me your new number, maybe we can hang out." The tight-chest sensation of shame was in full effect as Brandy fished in his pockets for his phone. He'd changed his number without really telling anyone. Even his family.

They exchanged phones, each updating each other's contact information.

"Hey, I don't really know what's going on," Ethan said. "And you seem like you don't need help. But, dude, if you need it, call me."

"You sound like I'm gunna ask for a booty call," Brandy chuckled.

"Netflix and chill?" Ethan asked, waggling his eyebrows.

"Netflix, chill, and Beckah walks in on us eating the rest of her ice cream," Brandy said. "That sounds like a night."

"We need something that goes better with ice cream," Ethan said.

"What about a dark chocolate lager?" Brandy asked. Ethan was weighing this as his watch beeped. He checked it.

"Shit," he said. "I gotta jet. Text me, dude." Ethan started off, running to make it before Jenna ripped him a new one.

Brandy kept going to his car. Having Ethan ask about him reminded him of all the people he'd left behind. All the people he didn't call any more. The pain he must've caused by cutting everyone off. He dialed the most important of everyone.

"Hey, Mom?" he said. "It's Brandy."

  
Ana wasn't exactly a planner. She had learned some planning and organization techniques - essentials to her jobs. When it came to her jobs, she could do that. But really, who bothered to be perfect in work and in their personal life?

The world had kept moving while she'd been frozen in time. She'd only sort of had a plan to move forward, and most of that had been ruined. So she had to salvage what she could.

Ana spit the mouth guard out.

"So, that was a spectacular display of you eating mat," Bryce laughed. "Are you sure you were in a coma?"

"Can I have my job?" Ana asked, avoiding the latter question. She knew about the body, but not enough to bullshit some kind of explanation for why she wasn't still in the hospital.

"I already filled your spot in," Bryce said. "You were in a coma. I didn't know when you were gunna wake up. _If_ you were gunna wake up."

"Yeah, yeah, I get that," Ana said, pulling her helmet off. She started ripping the tape off her hands. "Do you have any openings? Any at all? I'll man the desk, clean the locker rooms - I'll even go on laundry duty."

"You will not do laundry duty," Bryce said.

"Agreed, but the question stands: do you have anything? I'm prepared to wash all the gross towels in this place if it means that I get a job back. I am prepared to take on the black list if it means I get a client," Ana said. Immediately, she regretted the last point.

"You'd take the black list?" Bryce asked. He picked up the black book, waving it at her. Ana sucked in her lips. "Sure? Eighty clients waiting for you to help them achieve their fitness goals."

"Last time it was forty," Ana said, hedging.

"A lawyer from Central moved in a few blocks down and got people into a lawsuit craze after the accelerator went off," Bryce said. "Are you still willing to take on the Dan Breyers and Kathleen Purdy of the world?"

"I'm...very seriously considering it," Ana said, nodding. Oh, god, Kathleen Purdy. The woman was evil incarnate. It was like she expected to build muscle just by wearing yoga pants. She blamed everyone else but herself for her lack of effort.

"I don't have anything for you," Bryce said. "I wish I did. But I don't. I can make some calls for you. But you know...High Five Fitness is always hiring. They go through yoga instructors like socks."

"Yeah," Ana said. So her medical certifications had to get renewed, then she could apply to a job that didn't even have a good kickboxing program. "Thanks."

"Hey, Ana, you just got out of a coma," Bryce said. "You should be on medical and bereavement leave, not trying to jump back into work. It's not healthy."

"Yeah, yeah," Ana said, heading out the door. She thought about taking the blacklist, as a last resort. But she thought better of it. Maybe she could find a job at a dojo or something.

  
Greyson Investigations still rented out the modest hardwood space that overlooked the river. It was near enough to one of the bridges to get a good client flow from both Central City and Keystone. The building was crap, but Greyson wouldn't move. Mostly because the whole setup made new clients think about film noir and sassy dames.

The glamor of being a private investigator ended at the atmosphere that creaky wood flooring brought. While the messy desk and Greyson's penchant for suspenders added to the atmosphere, there were no elaborate conspiracies to uncover, no office romances between two people - attractive or otherwise, and no gangsters.

Ana wasn't even to the door when Greyson called out, "It's open, Ana."

The office hadn't changed much. It was still an organized mess of papers, filing cabinets, and haphazardly discarded takeout. Just a lot more takeout than Ana normally allowed.

"I heard you woke up," Greyson said. It amazed her. She'd gotten out of the hospital two days ago, and already he knew she was awake. How did he find this stuff out?

"Still have your ear glued to the ground?" Ana asked.

"Of course," Greyson said. "And it's been there long enough to know that you have to get relicensed to be a private investigator."

"I know," Ana said, clearing papers out of her chair. "I know. I just thought I'd come by to see if reapplying is worth my time. No use being able to work here if there's no work." Ana sat down. It was lumpy from months of holding papers.

"As long as there are secrets, there's work for private investigators," Greyson said. "I'll need your help as soon as you get approved. Until then, all you can do is be my...assistant. Take calls. Organize the information I've gathered."

"A secretary," Ana laughed. She remembered back when she'd been sixteen and totally into adding to the schtick. She'd worn old femme fatale type outfits and even played around with makeup and hair. Bringing clients coffee and tea had actually won a few skeptics over.

"I hired back Cameron," Greyson said.

"Well, things are getting more digital," Ana said, giving the office a pointed look. Cameron would probably insist on digitizing the office for a 'more professional' look. At least that's what he'd been hell-bent on the last time.

Cameron was very...smart. He was very tech-savvy. He'd improved the computers at Greyson Investigations, added bells and whistles. A long time ago, he'd adapted Ana's camera to be able to film lightning the way they did in nature documentaries. He had a digitizer that could scan four documents at once, back and front. But the man couldn't stand going through records by hand.

PI work was a lot less glamorous than the public wanted it to be. They did some missing persons, infidelity investigations, and genealogical investigations. Stakeouts happened, but not often. By and large, Greyson Investigations did document research and retrieval. In Keystone, that meant a lot of looking through records by hand. Cameron had hated it last time.

"That they are," Greyson agreed. Ana got to her feet and went to the door.

"Hey, aren't you going to be my secretary?" Greyson called.

"I need a garbage bag, first," Ana called.

  
Monique grinned to herself.

Ana was back. And she had a guy interested in her. Business was looking better. Megan and Josh were both turning into some semblance of managers. The two of them had even been able to manage longer shifts. Monique had never looked so good in a dress. It was all just...coming together.

 _Today is a very good day_ , she thought, surveying the last of the lunch crowd as it moseyed out of the dining room. It had been a particularly slammed lunch for a Tuesday. The dining room looked like a tornado had passed through. Sales had been amazing. They were completely out of French onion soup.

"You look rather pleased," Josh remarked.

"I am," Monique said. "I think I'll take my lunch now. Do you think you can handle it?"

"I think I can handle the lull," Josh said, rolling his eyes. But he didn't stop smiling. And he didn't point out that Monique hadn't taken a lunch break since he'd been hired. He just took the change as it came.

"I have a feeling that we might have an especially busy dinner tonight," Monique said. It was just a hope - a fervent desire that business was on the up and up.

Monique took her lunch out to the back patio - closed years ago when Elena had wanted a place for her girls to play outside without getting into trouble while their parents were busy. She enjoyed the sun on her face. No lists. No plans. No schedules, financial reports, or suppliers. Just her and a meal and the day.

  
Calling his mother had been refreshing, but it had opened an unexpected floodgate of phone calls. His family kept calling, the calls trickling in every hour or so. Brandy had to inform everyone that he worked nights now and slept during the day. To which his family replied, 'but you're still a nurse, right?'

"Yeah, I'm still a nurse," Brandy said. "What, you think nurses only work during the day?"

"I know, it's just...I don't know what's going on in your life," Patrick said. "You don't even email any more. Mom's really been worried. She wasn't upset when she got to stop inviting Kendra over for Thanksgiving."

Kendra. Brandy still thought about her now and again. She'd been left with even fewer answers than his family and friends. He'd at least sent out a mass email to them, telling them that he wanted to be left alone for personal reasons. Kendra was left on her doorstep with no explanation, not even knowing that he'd changed his number and moved.

"Small miracles," Brandy said. "Hey, I have to get back to sleep."

"Sure, sure," Patrick said. "Go save lives."

Brandy checked the time. He had about three more glorious hours of sleep. He rolled over and buried his face in the pillow.

  
Monique looked over the list of things Ana had. Ana wasn't exactly a list person. But there she was, list stuck to the front of a notebook. There were also papers there - a relicencing test for private investigators sticking out from the stack.

"Are you...planning on jumping right into getting your jobs back?" Monique asked. "I mean, you just woke up two days ago. I was thinking I'd let Josh take lunch tomorrow and we could hang out. Or would him taking dinner be better?"

"I suppose I can put off getting back into shape for now," Ana said. "Hang out. I mean, I didn't atrophy like I should've. It shouldn't take me more than a couple weeks to catch up."

"Atrophy? How do you mean?" Monique asked.

"When you don't move around, you can lose muscle mass," Ana explained. "So the whole seven and a half months in a coma? I got my ass kicked by Eli today."

"Didn't you say he was a terrible fighter?" Monique asked.

"That's what happens when muscle atrophy sets in," Ana said. "I'm not as strong or fast. And even though it feels like no time passed, my techniques have dulled."

"Well, if you'll put off your list until Monday, we can have a Bloody Mary day," Monique said. "And a Margarita Midnight."

"We haven't had a Margarita Midnight since..." Ana's face fell. Since before their dad died, when he'd pull out the bottle of tequila that he'd gotten from a tiny distillery in Mexico. Monique pulled her sister into a hug.

"No, I'm supposed to be relieving you," Ana protested. " _I'm_ supposed to be supporting ."

"We're supporting each other, stupid," Monique said, giving Ana's arm a little pinch. "That's what family does."

  
Brandy found himself face to face with Anastasia as she came into the hospital.

"Hello, Mr. Nurse," she said. She looked a bit like Ethan had - barely a trace of sludge. Hers was mostly hovering around her head. But she had something funny about her. Like she had a blue-grey color aura. It was slight, and Brandy wasn't even sure he was actually seeing it.

"I'm...really sorry about the other day," Brandy said. He'd rather apologize for nothing than get slapped with a harassment complaint. "You'd just come out of a coma. I was trying to do my job."

"About that," Anastasia said, tucking a lock behind her ear. "Could I talk to you? Privately?"

"Sure," Brandy said. He lead the way to a nook that the cardiologists liked to use to talk to family. It was a very, very small waiting area with only a bench. The advantage of using it was that people would assume Brandy was talking about Official Business and keep walking.

"I'm a personal trainer," Anastasia said. "I specialize in self defense. But I did look into therapeutic training. I know that I'm much, much stronger than I should be for a coma patient. You knew something was wrong. You helped me get out of here without having to see a doctor."

Brandy wished he could pat his past self on the back. In hindsight, that was an excellent move. "I...I have reason to think you might be...different."

"You mean, beyond atrophying like I was active but not working out for seven months?" Anastasia asked, a single brown eyebrow raised.

"Your hair and nails didn't grow," Brandy said. "The whole time you were here, there was no record for a nurse that any staff or family had given you a trim. And...I may have peeked at your brain scans."

"And?" Anastasia asked, leaning in closer. She shot a passing orderly a look, making the other woman pick up her pace.

"They're all _identical_ ," Brandy said. "Not similar. Identical. Then, I looked into your injuries. The damage sustained from the lighting that hit you healed _before_ your superficial wounds. Six weeks after being admitted, you had no traces of being struck by lighting. But you still had scratches on your face and palms from falling."

"You were trying to see if I was an alien or something," Ana concluded.

"I was trying to figure out what was going on with you," Brandy said. "Are you suffering any memory loss? Changes in weight or sleep? Hallucinations?"

"I don't really know," she admitted. "I've only been awake two days. I feel...fine. Like there's nothing wrong with me."

Brandy shrugged, trying to act casual. "I have some silly theories, but nothing that makes any sense."

"I'm willing to hear anything," Anastasia said. "Hell, I'd take 'expiramented on by our mice overlords' at this point." That was good to hear. Maybe something slightly more reasonable would be accepted.

"After the particle accelerator exploded...weird stuff started to happen," Brandy said. "I used to work in the ER. After the explosion, we started getting an influx of patients with inexplicable wounds. Or, they'd have an impossible story that went with their bizaar wound. The thing was, the story actually made sense with the injuries sustained."

"You think I have something to do with these injuries?" Anastasia asked.

"I think there might be people who have abilities," Brandy said. "They can lift a car with one hand or-or see through a wall. I think you might have an ability."

"Do you have one?" Anastasia asked. There was the crux. Did Brandy fall into the category of being super-powered?

"I'm...not sure," Brandy admitted. "Right now I'm going with 'no'. Listen, I know that I sound crazy. I know this is weird. I can't quite believe it myself. But it's the only theory that makes any sense."

"You think the explosion gave people powers," Anastasia realized.

"Crazy, I know," Brandy said. Anastasia just chewed her lip, staring at the painting on the far wall. She stood, turning away. Before she got too far, she turned back.

"Is it okay if I contact you if something more weird happens to me?" Anastasia asked. "Like, if I shoot lightning out my eyes or something?"

"Sure, sure," Brandy said. Anastasia turned, leaving briskly. It occurred to Brandy that she might not have come back to the hospital to ply him with questions about magic powers.

  
Monique chewed her lip. She'd watched from the upper window as Ana had gone into the restaurant. She should be upstairs by now. On cue, the key slid into the door, and Ana came in. From the looks of things, she'd been able to get her errands done all at once.

"So, how'd it go?" Monique asked.

"They let me in," Ana said, kicking off her shoes. "Did you know that you can get certified as a babysitter? They're gunna let me test first aid and CPR with a group. I'll have to get AED a little later."

"Awesome!" Monique said. She held out a hand for a high-five. Ana swung like she was going to use her full strength. At the last second, she checked herself, giving Monique's palm a little boop.

"So, why haven't I seen any guys traipsing out of your room yet?" Ana asked. "Asking them to stay away?"

"I didn't really have time for anything too...involved," Monique said. She didn't want to go into the gory details of her failed dates. Besides, she knew what she liked - the chase. She might be feeling more up to the chase now that Ana was back. "Bryce asked me to be his pretend girlfriend for the holidays. That was pretty nice."

They slipped into their normal rhythm. Ana pulled out their things for Bloody Maries. Monique set the movie up and got out hummus and olives. For the first day in months, Monique wasn't going to work. She had family back in the house.

Ana's presence didn't solve all problems. But she did alleviate some pressures. Ana had already started doing the laundry and dishes. She picked up the bathroom and had vacuumed. Last night she'd cleaned the grill until it looked like new. Little chores that Monique was always stuck with.

They curled up on the couch, watching their movie while talking about all the things Ana missed in the past seven and a half months.

  
Brandy forced himself to sit in the park, watching people pass by.

He'd picked it very carefully, as not to raise alarms about some guy sitting on a bench. It was in the middle of a lot of businesses. People gathered around the hot dog vendors and gyro carts in order to get lunch and spend some time outside.

Brandy had made the mistake of not asking Anastasia for her phone number. He might ask her to help him test his ideas on his powers. He'd done everything in his power not to peek in her file. In a park, he might be able to see if the favorite was true without her help. Or at least see if it held up to testing.

Brandy sipped his coffee, observing the auras closely. How they changed as people moved. It didn't seem like the auras were connected to the individual's heartbeat. They all seemed to pulse at random, thudding against his eyes.

He looked away, shutting out the hallucination for a bit. It was hard to look at it all. It made his eyes sore and a general feeling of knives being stabbed into his temples. It gave him an edgy feeling, like what he was looking at was something to run from.

When Brandy found the pain subsiding, he looked back to the crowds of people. His luck hadn't run out yet. A young woman tripped as she dashed through the park, arms full of papers and bags of fast food. She had started the fall with the common halo of sludge. As she hit the ground, an aura welled up over her hip and elbow. The two places she made hardest contact.

"Are you okay?" he asked, coming over to help her. "Did you hit your head?"

"No," she grunted. "My elbow." She let him help her to her feet. As he watched, the sludge started to dim. Her jacket must've taken the brunt of the hit. But blood trickled down her leg. The aura hung around the wound, easing very little.

"Shit," she whimpered, looking like she was absolutely at the end of her rope.

"You sit down," Brandy said. "I'll get this."

"You don't have to," she said. But she let him guide her to a park bench. Brandy gathered up the spilled mess, salvaging what he could. Someone had been smart enough to roll up the tops of the paper bags, keeping the food inside. But that didn't save the ones that fell into a puddle.

"Thank you," she said.

"You're welcome," Brandy said, giving her back her papers. _It's the least I can do after I treated you like a guinea pig._

"You know those days where nothing seems to go right?" she asked, eyes downcast at her knee.

"Yup," Brandy said, pulling out a mini first aid kit. "Do you want me to patch you up?" She laughed.

"Who carries a first aid kit on them?" she asked, looking at him like he might be weird. Then again, he wasn't in his scrubs.

"Well, I'm a nurse," Brandy said. "Brandy."

"Your name is Brandy?" she asked. "Seriously?"

"Yup," Brandy said. "Did you want that band aid?" She nodded. Brandy popped the kit open, pulling out an alcohol wipe.

"I'm Jimena," she said.

"It's very nice to meet you, Miss Jimena," Brandy said. He opened a band aid, wiping some antibiotic ointment on it. He pressed it to the scrape.

"Is your middle name Peaches?" Jimena asked.

"Brandy peaches," he said. "It's been a while since I've heard that one. No. My parents were old fashioned. So my middle name is Sugar, and my last name is Bitters." She got the joke, and she started laughing so hard that she squeaked. When Jimena's laughter subsided, she was still smiling.

"Thank you for helping me," she said, getting to her feet.

"Oh, crap, you were already running-," Brandy said, realizing that Jimena had to be on her way.

"I'm already royaly screwed," she said. "I may as well take my time." She started picking up her things. This time they were piled a little less precariously in her arms. But maybe that was due to the loss of four orders.

"Hey, Brandy, could you do me just one more favor?" she asked.

"Sure," he said. He'd be lying if he was hoping she was going to ask for his number.

"Could you get that recipt for me?" she asked. Brandy bent down, fetching it for her. She smiled. He liked the way it made her eyes crinkle. And her nose, just a little. She took it from him. "Thanks."

And then she walked away, the woman who'd inadvertantly helped him figure his powers out.

  
A week went by. No powers. No flying or seeing through walls. And Ana certainly didn't start shooting lasers out her eyes.

Ana spent her time building back her muscle and studying for the reliscencing test. She spent her afternoons with teenagers that wanted to become babysitters. She was going to meet with an inheritance lawyer. She started talking to a landlord about an apartment - potentially. Life fell back into a familiar rhythm, and the thought of powers slipped out of her mind.

She found herself nose to muzzle one late night at the corner store. She held a twelve pack in one hand and jerky in the other.

She didn't even really think about what she was doing. She had dropped what she was holding and moved at the gunman before she really registered that he could've killed her.

It wasn't until he was on the floor that she realized that blue sparks had fallen off her, singing her hoodie. She felt like she'd downed a few Red Bulls. There was a sort of pressure as she continued through the convenience store. Like she was moving through the deep end of a pool.

Ana stopped at the register. There was a man in a ski mask, trying to get to the cash. He was...doing something to it. It was being crushed without him even touching it. Flattened. He saw Ana and reached for her ever so slowly.

The pressure that came at her was from above, even and constant. But so slow. She pushed herself to the side. She came out of it.

 _I'm moving really fast_ , she realized. A motion that would take a second or two took much longer to her. She crossed the distance between them, slid over the counter, and punched him in the throat.

Things stopped moving in slow-motion. The man bent over, choking. The water-like pressure that surrounded her dissipated completely. She slammed her knee into his solar plexus a few times before shoving him into the tobacco.

"Bitch," he snarled. Ana felt the crushing from above. It was much faster, bringing her to her knees. She grunted, trying to stand. Her body felt so heavy. She needed to get out of here.

She pushed forward, blue lightning burning across her body. Ana snatched at the robber's face, ripping his mask off. She got a brief glimpse before red and blue lights flashed across the store.

Ana turned and ran, leaving it all behind. She used the fire door in the back, taking the long way home. She didn't even make it three blocks before her clothes caught fire.

  
"I've got super speed," Anastasia panted. Brandy looked up from his book. Ana was there, flushed. She had a light in her eyes, like she was about to geek out or something.

She came around the counter, sitting in the spare chair so hard that it slid into his. He caught the arms as she started her story.

"So I'm getting some beer, right? This guy comes up to me with a gun," Anastasia said, splaying her fingers while she told the story. "I took him down. And then I see this guy doing...something to the register. He was like us. He-he could smash things. Or something. Anyway, it's not until I start fighting him that I realize that I can move super fast."

"But you didn't see anything weird?" Brandy asked. She was turning into a bit of a dud in terms of helping him. Although, if she had powers, that meant that powers were real. And that his...hallucinations might not be hallucinations at all.

"Yeah. The world was sort of frozen," Anastasia said. "I haven't really figured out how to do it again. But maybe it's just a matter of practice. This is so cool!"

Her aura had changed from before. The vague grey-blue was much more prominent now. The faded in and out as he watched her. It was like his eyes were trying to see through a prescription that wasn't meant for him.

"It is," Brandy echoed. "So...did you want to talk more about it?"

"Yeah!" Ana said. "My clothes caught fire. It was sort of scary and hot, but I'm okay."

"Did you get burned?" Brandy asked.

"That's the thing," Ana said, leaning forward, resting an arm on the desk. "I felt the burns. But when I got home, I didn't have any. Mostly just the road rash is left."

"Maybe you healed?" Brandy suggested. "I thought you had a kind of cellular stasis, but maybe you have cellular regeneration? Maybe your speed allows you to heal yourself quickly."

"Cool," Ana breathed.

"I think my power is to see pain," Brandy said. "Or...powers. I don't know. I'm still working it out."

There. He'd admitted it. He saw things. He saw strange images that he didn't quite understand. The same things that got people admitted to the psych ward. Ana stared at him, her expression not calculating or revolted. Not quite stunned. More like...blank.

"Have you tested this theory?" Ana asked.

"I did," Brandy said. "I've been...people watching. All day. I met a lot of people who suddenly got the...aura after they fell or stubbed their toe."

"So...you see pain," Ana said. "And I move super fast. What happens now?"

"I...hadn't really thought much past figuring out what was happening to me," Brandy said.

They sat there in silence for a moment. Ana seemed to calm down. Her adrenaline rush was certainly ebbing. Ana stopped shivering in excitement. Now she seemed to shiver from cold.

"If we got our powers from an explosion, does that mean we're compelled to turn into crime-fighting superheroes?" Anastasia asked. "Because I'm still trying to get reality back on track."

"We don't have to," Brandy said. "We could...explore our abilities. Test what we can do. Maybe stretch the limits of our abilities. Do I see pain or all emotions? Is your speed only limited to nearly getting shot, or can you do it whenever you want?"

He'd been so scared of the hallucinations that he hadn't looked past them being a medical issue. What if it wasn't a detriment at all? What if he could see where pain was? If he could see where pain was, could he better treat patients?

"Sure," Anastasia said. "I have a really high pain tolerance, and I have to train, anyway. So if you came to the gym and watched me, maybe that could help? And maybe you can use your science to help me figure out how to keep my speed. Or just keep my sneakers from catching fire."

If he didn't know any better, Brandy could swear he felt a smile creeping onto his face. This was good. Anastasia believed him about the powers, and she seemed to have some of her own. And, hopefully, the two of them could help.

"Ana," she said, holding out a hand. Brandy took it.

"I'm Brandy," he said. She gave a firm handshake. "We'll figure this out together."

"Together," Ana echoed.


	2. Second Chances at Lucking Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ana finds herself with powers and a second chance at life.
> 
> Brandy lucks out and runs into another meta-human.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still working on some characterizations. Hopefully it's not too slow.

Ana lifted her arms, inhaling the crisp morning air. The sun lit up her closed eyelids, bathing her in a pink light. She could feel the whole of herself as she moved through her morning stretches. The breath in her lungs. Her heartbeat in her chest. The strength she had as she tilted herself to shift all her weight onto her arms.

When Ana opened her eyes and checked her phone, not even a minute had passed since she'd started. Weeks ago, she'd thought she was going crazy or something when she got to Greyson's a whole hour early. But then Ana had gotten the idea to record herself in her morning routine. And, sure enough, she had been moving very fast. Even though it felt like she was moving slowly.

Brandy was always looking for ways to use his powers, understand them. Ana was trying to help as much as she could. But she hadn't really explored her own power. She was just trying to hold on to her second chance at life. Maybe restart things.

Ever since she'd woken up, Ana found herself standing in the same places she hadn't wanted to be in prior to the coma. She didn't want to still be living at home or be obsessing about Troy. She didn't want to feel like photography was a hobby she got to squeeze in between her two jobs.

Her phone beeped at her, reminding her that it was time to meet Brandy. She grabbed her things. She had a second chance. It was time for her to figure out what to do with it.

  
Brandy slid the coffee over to Ana. She normally wasn't late. Well, not late. He was early today. Normally she was the one sliding a coffee to him as he walked to the door.

"After a lot of deliberation, I think the colors have to do with powers," Brandy said. "So far, there's really only been you and a couple others who I can see without meaning to. If I work really, really hard, sometimes I can see a shimmer on a _lot_ of people."

"So we could find other people," Ana said.

"Maybe," Brandy said. "But I don't really see a lot of people in comatose."

"Hey, Brandy, why did you become a nurse?" Ana asked.

"I want to help people," Brandy lied. It was the generic answer that everyone accepted without question.

"Why did you transfer to the basement where you don't do anything?" Ana asked.

"I couldn't handle being in the ER with my power," Brandy said. _Because I was weak._

"Now that you're getting a grip on your power, why aren't you back in the ER?" Ana asked. "Or at least in a busier part of the hospital?"

It wasn't like he was panicking any more. He had Ana here to listen to his concerns, even when she had no idea what he was saying. She still tried to listen. And that attempt eased so much turmoil in himself.

Brandy looked down at Ana. The murk that had appeared around her head since she'd woken up hadn't budged. He was pretty sure that didn't indicate a head injury. He was starting to think it indicated mental distress. How could she tell him to face this when she wasn't dealing with her own struggles? Her inner pains? He could see them plain as day.

"You know, you haven't really said much at these things," Brandy said. "What's up with your power?"

"I've been distracted by work," Ana said. "My power seems to take some combination of focus and/or adrenaline. I'm still trying to work on that."

"Have you tried listening to meditation tapes?" Brandy asked. "You know, something to help you focus?"

"You know, that might help," Ana said, linking arms with him. "I think it's less a matter of 'clearing my mind' and more of a 'pick a topic and stick to it'." She was very comfortable with touching. He figured that came with the personal trainer territory.  
  
"Ana, I'll ease back into other parts of the hospital, but I want you to do something in return," Brandy said.

"Yeah?" Ana asked.

"I want you to figure out why you're hurting so much," Brandy said. Ana slipped her arm out of his fast enough that it was like his touch burned her. She barreled forward, not looking back.

“Mind your damn business,” she called back.

  
Ana slammed the bag with her fist once more. It rattled on its chain.

After six weeks of training, she felt completely back to normal. Which would be impossible for someone without her healing abilities. But she did it. Her diet had changed radically. Before she'd pretty much lived on protein and vegetables. Now she had to eat a ton of carbs with her protein so she didn't pass out from day to day life. Ana wanted to jump back onto the mat and make Eli eat it. Or anyone, really. She just wanted to have a sparring partner. Someone who fought back.

"What did the bag ever do to you?" Bryce asked, gripping it a little tighter.

"Nothing," Ana snapped, slamming an elbow into it.

"So it was a guy who got under your skin," Bryce said, waggling his eyebrows. Ana resisted an eye roll.

"Not like that," Ana said, giving the bag a kick. "More like...do I seem like I'm in pain to you?"

"You seem unnaturally at ease after coming out of a coma to find your mother had died and that you lost one of your jobs," Bryce said. "Have you had a good cry?"

"Yes. Twice," Ana said.

"Was that because you had Monique there?" Bryce asked. Ana kicked the bag again, this time where Bryce's groin should've been. He snorted.

"Why do people have to cry to grieve?" Ana demanded.

"It's like sex," Bryce said. "Rule of thumb - if it's not messy, you're not doing it right. But then again, you seem to be stuck in the anger phase of grieving."

"I'll grieve when Monique is in a better place," Ana snapped.

"Hey, hey," Bryce said, grabbing her hands. Her punch barely made his big meaty paws move. "This whole 'tough chick' act? You don't have to do it around me. Monique is fine. Now that you're awake, she's the best she's been in a year."

Ana glared at him. At first, she'd thought that Monique was struggling. And, in a way, Monique had been. But it had become clear that being on her own had only increased her already huge ability to be responsible. The only thing Ana had been good for was making sure that the dishes got into the dishwasher and cleaning the grill when she could.

"I'm no psychologist, but...maybe you're stuck in the mad phase because you can't find anyone to blame," Bryce said. "You're angry, and that's hard to be when you don't know whose face to punch."

Ana pulled her hands from Bryce's. Her phone started beeping. She checked it.

"I have to go," she said. "Greyson needs me."

  
Cameron was finding his first day with Ana in the same room beyond tedious. It never mattered if she showered or not, she always smelled like that damn gym. And she couldn't drum up the professionalism not to wear sweats or athleticwear in the office. At this point, jeans and a t-shirt would look more professional.

"The whole team back together," Ana said, nodding to Cameron. "What are we working on?" Cameron rolled his eyes. Such a child. Did she really assume that everyone thought she was a joy to work with?

"We're looking into a conspiracy at KPD," Cameron said. Ana looked at him like he was crazy.

"Not your best joke," she said. "So, where are we going first? The library or courthouse?"

"You are headed to a roof in Central City," Greyson said, holding out a file. Ana took it. "Looks like Mrs. Lambertson has been going to a hotel in town when she's supposed to be on business trips."

"Hold on," Cameron said. "She hasn't gotten her reliscencing." Ana flashed her new ID at him.

"We've been sitting on the case for a while," Greyson admitted. "You don't have any classes tonight, right?"

"I have some things I need to clear up first," Ana said. "No problem over here."

"How have the hacking incidents been going?" Greyson asked. Cameron shook his head.

"Right now, all I can do is disconnect the internet," Cameron said. "For now. I'm gunna transfer anything of value from my hard drive to a separate one."

Greyson shook his head. "It's not like we have anything of value."

"We kind of do," Cameron said. "It just depends on what they want and why. You could, in theory, make a conterfeit deed. Or if they want to delete photos of them cheating. We've got blueprints for the Keystone Museum."

"They're hardley up to date," Ana said. "Besides, they could get all that stuff at the courthouse."

"Social security numbers, birth certificates, marriage liscences, family histories, medical records - we're sitting on an identity theif's gold mine," Cameron said. "But like I said, I'm working on separating that information from the computer so it can't be stolen as easily."

Greyson sat back, playing with his suspenders.

"I'll be heading to Mercury Labs," Greyson said.

"Wait, I'm stuck here as the IT guy?" Cameron demanded. Now that there were unusual cases - things that didn't require him to slog through thousands of pages of material - he didn't get a case?

"I was getting to it," Greyson said, picking up a file. "Dr. Tyler Suttun. You need to head over to Central City University to see if she really attended there. Get whatever you can - grades, GPA, honors. When you're done, then you can work on being my IT guy."

That was more like it. He smiled to himself.

  
Jenna stared at him.

"I got you into coma, and now you want out?" she demanded.

"I want to try getting back to normal," Brandy said. "This past month, I've been improving a ton. I want to try out some night shifts somewhere else. Still low-key. Do you think you can help me?" Jenna sighed.

"I heard about a shift they're desperate to fill. It'll be fifth floor. Miranda will want you to start immediately," she said. "Don't mention who told you. I almost ruined my reputation getting you into coma."

"Thank you so much," Brandy said. He gave Jenna a side hug. She glared at him. He let go.

"Don't screw this up," she said, jamming a finger in his direction. She walked off, getting right back to work.

  
Monique loved and hated having new managers.

It had been more than a month and she still wasn't used to Josh and Megan being in charge of the resteraunt. They had their own way of doing things. They weren't her way. They weren't a way she was used to. But the kitchen was clean at night, prep got done, and sales didn't suffer. But she just. Didn't. Like. It.

What she really didn't like was that they didn't keep up her request to give leftovers that couldn't be sold to the homeless that now lined up at the back door. There weren't many of them. Just a few locals who'd known Elena and still came for soup. It wasn't sorrel soup any more, but they still liked it none the less.

Monique handed out bowls to the men and women. They ate in the alley, keeping out of sight of other homeless. Utkin's didn't usually have a lot of leftovers, so those who knew tried to keep it relatively quiet. The newcomer was a surprise. He was between Margie and Greg, who'd no doubt brought him. His twitching said junkie, but Margie and Greg actively avoided drug users.

"Who's this?" Monique asked, holding out a bowl to Margie. The old woman took the bowl into her taloned hands.

"We can't get his name or numbers," Greg said. "So we call him John. He seems military. Probably Afghanistan. But he never talks about the desert when we ask. Always talks about jungles."

John looked young, but there was something aged about him. But that could easily have been from war. His hair was long, matted, and filthy. There was a mole just under his lip. His eyes were squinty, like he couldn't quite see what was going on. The effect was enhanced by his long lashes. John's rocking slowed when he accepted the bowl.

"Hi," Monique said. He kept rocking, not really looking at anyone or anything. "How are you?" She could see that he had some shreds of grey and white in his sandy hair. Maybe he was older than she thought.

"Here's some soup," Monique said, holding out a bowl. John seemed to focus on the world, really see what was in front of him. He took the bowl and shuffled closer to Margie, making room for Greg.

"Claratin," John muttered, looking into space.

"He doesn't have allergies," Greg said. "He just mutters things every now and again." Monique handed Greg a bowl.

"Well, he's good to have you," Monique said, giving the old man a smile.

  
Cameron tapped the file. The university had been very accomidating. In a way. It had been very easy to find Dr. Sutton's acheivements online. The transcripts had been a little trickier to get his hands on, but he had it all.

He was really just putting off the in-house IT at this point. He was here to be a private investigator, not be there whenever the wifi went down. While the hack was more than just Greyson being left behind in another technological era, he still felt a little like dragging his feet.

 _If I could filter out public records, maybe I could get a better idea of what they want_ , Cameron thought. It was the first half-decent idea he'd gotten. The only other thing he'd thought of had been setting up a virtual trap that would buy him time to figure out who this asshole was.

He pulled up his image-searching program. He'd have to alter it to recognize and differentiate official seals.

  
Anger without a target is like a poison in the well. It poisons everything, not just one thing. Or, at least it was one of Roman Utkin's many personal proverbs. Ana had always felt that it meant that to know what you were mad about and then to express it to the person who made you angry would make you feel better.

The problem was, who was to blame for her going into the coma? It wasn't a doctor's fault for her mother refusing medical treatment. Harrison Wells hadn't blown up his lab on purpose. Monique hadn't been the one to drag Ana up to the roof that night. It wasn't Bryce's fault that Ana had twisted her ankle.

No one to blame. No one who deserved punishment. There was no call for justice. It was just the way life had turned out. There was no way for Ana to go back and undo it all. She couldn't change history.

The reality of it drove her fists deeper into the bag. It just rattled on its chain until Ana was too tired to keep hitting. She sagged into the mat on the floor.

  
"I proposed to Beckah, again," Ethan said. "And she turned me down again."

"Tough break," Brandy said. "Did you use a ring this time?"

"Dude, it was one time and I was sixteen," Ethan snapped. "You gotta let that go." Brandy tried to conceal the laugh with a cough.

"I really wish someone had recorded that," Brandy said. "I would pay to see that." He dipped a fry in ketchup.

"Yeah, yeah," Ethan said. "It was funny back in high school and college. But now we're grown-ass adults who've been together for twelve years. If she doesn't want to be with me, she needs to say so." Ethan shook his head.

"Dude, don't you have to get to work?" Ethan asked. Brandy cussed, grabbing his wallet. "Nah, I got it. It was good to see you."

"Yeah, it was good catching up," Brandy said. Not that he'd had much to offer apart from talking to his family again. He could've talked for hours about his powers, but that would have to wait for another time.

  
Ana shivered. She'd gotten onto the roof hours ago, and there was still no sign of the love birds. They had rented the hotel, but they had yet to show up. Her legs were getting cramped, even with her constant moving. Old fighting injuries reminded her that they were there.

This was why she liked staying with Greyson Investigations. She never did stakeouts. She'd once gone to another company, and stakeouts was all she did. It was always muscle cramps, the wide swings between hot and cold. She was never able to make a food run or go to the bathroom in case the target arrived. With the unbelievably erratic hours, she didn't make overtime. And she never slept.

She liked to think that she could handle a few of those in moderation. But she certainly couldn't handle them all at once. As boring as sifting through files was, it brought a lot more simplicity. And, strangely, a lot more stability.

Ana stretched, shaking the sleep from her legs. They were supposed to show up three hours ago. She'd wait for one more before calling it a night.

Some movement just outside Central City caught her attention. It looked like...a tornado. A tornado with a bolt of lightning around the base. Ana looked away. When she looked back, it was still there. There was another bolt that knocked it away.

She grabbed her camera - not the one she usually carried around. The one she always used. But rather, the one Cameron had adapted. Her refurbished long-range, high-speed camera. She lifted it up, zooming in on the strange display of lightning returning to surround the base of the tornado.

The tornado exploded. Ana looked up, trying to make sense of what she'd just witnessed. In the camera's scope, the field was too dark to see anything more. A freak tornado. Weird lightning. Seemed a little like a person with abilities. Without the lightning to illuminate the scene, there was nothing more for her to see.

 _The hotel room_ , Ana realized. She turned the camera to the hotel. Mrs. Lambertson and her lover were already in bed. Great. Now Ana had to wade through it all to make sure she got pictures of both Mrs. Lambertson and her lover. Instead of being ready and getting good shots of them as they got in the door.

  
The lung ward wasn't so bad. It was pretty quiet despite the fact that everyone was a fall risk. Any motion to get out of bed had to be assisted.

"Excuse me?" Brandy looked up, meeting eyes with Jimena. "Oh, Brandy, right?"

"Yeah," he said. "Can I help you?" He did the compulsary glance about her.

She had a visitor's badge, the kind that allowed her to stay overnight. And, if he didn't know any better, he'd say she had a colored aura around her. He wasn't quite sure, but he thought he could see a pale apricot shimmer around her. It was so faint that it almost looked like a special effect in a makeup commercial.

"Can I get an extra blanket?" she asked. Brandy got up, following her to the room of Natalia Cardenas. Right outside, Brandy opened a cabinet, pulling out a blanket. Jimena took it cautiously.

"Everything okay?" he asked quietly.

"My grandmother isn't doing so well," Jimena said. "And she doesn't make it any easier." She held the blanket to her chest, looking away from the bedroom door. The halo of worry billowed and twisted around her head.

"I heard you and that chick talking about your powers," Jimena whispered. Brandy's legs were turning to ice as Jimena glanced over her shoulder. He feared he'd never leave this spot.

"O-oh, you meant our D&D characters," Brandy said.

"No, your power to see pain," Jimena said. "I need your help."

"Yeah, that's what my character does," Brandy said.

Jimena's gentle black locks suddenly scrunched up into super-tight curls. Right before his eyes. The curls rearranged into one of those fancy updo's without her even touching a strand.

Which meant that Jimena had actually overheard Brandy and Ana at Stomping Grounds. They'd have to meet somewhere more private from now on. That or start talking in codes. It also suggested that Jimena had stalked him down to St. Andrew's.

"Is this even your grandmother?" Brandy hissed.

"I promise, this is completely coincidental," Jimena said. As she spoke, her hair just fell back to the way it had been. "That woman is a devout Catholic. She'd rather die than go to a protestant hospital. I was actually going to talk to you at Stomping Grounds."

There was a buzzing on his comm. He listened. Not an emergency, but he had to wrap this up for now.

"Can we talk about this later?" Brandy asked.

"Sure," Jimena said. "But - I had no idea you had powers that day in the park. I promise." It didn't really comfort Brandy much. But he smiled, nodded, and left her.

  
Jimena twiddled her thumbs over the lip of her coffee. He looked exhausted from his night at work. Jimena felt a little bad that he had to stay up. But he'd insisted on them talking as soon as he was off.

"Why don't you start at the begining?" Brandy asked. "How did you get your powers?"

"I guess it started when I cut my hair a few months back," Jimena said. "I _hated_ it. I sell textiles to designers and labels. It wasn't going to go over well with the buyers. I went to bed with short hair, and the next day, my hair looked like it had before I'd gotten it cut. I thought I was going crazy. I tried cutting it myself, and it grew out overnight. Before I knew it, I could...feel it. And then I was styling my hair without touching it. And then one day I used a lock of hair to brush my hair."

"That's...crazy," Brandy said. "Who did you tell?"

"Well, not really anyone," Jimena said. "Until Mike fell through my ceiling. Mike can walk through walls and stuff. He sort of has trouble with his power. Sometimes he just falls through a wall. Or a floor. When he got up, he caught me multitasking...with my hair. So we started talking."

"So what are you going to do with your power?" Brandy asked.

"Get ahead at work," Jimena said. "I can literally make my hair do any style. No time or product needed. I can make it appeal to a whimsical designer in the morning then a serious label in the afternoon. Then, at home, I can hold a bunch of stuff at once. Just - lots of stuff." Jimena didn't want to get into how she'd taken to using her hair to illustrate weave patterns.

"And Mike?" Brandy asked.

"As far as I know, he uses it to help him fix cars. He's a mechanic," Jimena replied. "How do you use yours?"

"So far...not much," Brandy said. "I've been trying to differentiate pains. There's a lot of pains that go on around the head, and they often look like they're overlapping. And it's not like I can ask someone at work where it hurts."

"No, but you can ask your patients," Jimena said. "It's great that you're helping people."

I've been...getting back to work," Brandy said. "I've been wondering if I can use my ability to see pain to my advantage. Maybe if I can differentiate between pain, I can better treat people."

"The only thing I can think to do with my powers is become Rapunzel and let people up my braid," Jimena said. "So, who's that chick you told?"

"That's Ana," Brandy said. "We're still trying to figure out what she does."

"This is really great," Jimena said. "Maybe we can all meet up. Maybe we can brainstorm how to help Mike not fall through everything he touches."

"I'd like that," Brandy said.


	3. Dumb Struck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ana explains her powers to Monique. Cameron gets an unexpected visitor. Brandy starts to make amends. Meta-humans start to come together.

Cameron hadn't really ever been a favorite, but he certainly didn't spend time in the doghouse, either. Ana, on the other hand, was spending yet another day with her tail between her legs.

"How long is he going to be mad at you?" Cameron asked. It was sort of nice to see her struggling for a change. She wasn't just sliding through the office, doing whatever she wanted freely.

"As long as it takes to damn Mrs. Lambertson," Ana said. "The shots I got weren't clear enough."

"But this is a no-fault state," Cameron said. "You don't need any of that."

"But they got their licence in Texas, which is," Ana said. "So Mr. Lambertson needs proof of his wife cheating on him. Plus, he has a prenup, so proving that she's cheating on him will save him alimony. And she can't take the kids out of spite if she cheats on him."

"I hate divorce investigations," Cameron muttered. He hated divorces, period. If you didn't have it in you to stick together, don't get married.

"All I got was her in profile," Ana said. "I practically need a porno for it to go uncontested in court." Cameron snorted.

"Good luck with that," he laughed.

Cameron's computer beeped, calling him away. His adjusted program had finished sorting out all the public documents. Which left a lot.

There were the gimmies - credit cards and social security numbers. Then there were personal files of nameless people - individuals who let him listen to the pulse of the city. If the police got a hold of those, they'd probably press the poor bastards into being CI's.

After that, there were other things. Greyson's notes on investigations, which could be useful for an opposing party in court. And of course all of Ana's pictures. If someone could delete the photographic evidence that she gathered, it could damage a case.

There was just too much to just disregard any one thing. Especially if he didn't have a secondary data point.

  
It had been an obnoxiously long day. A party of nine had come in thirty minutes before they normally closed, and they'd had to be asked by Josh to leave. Monique had a question on her tongue as she walked in, but it dried up when she saw what Ana was doing. Or rather, didn't see, as Ana was a blur of athletic wear and blue sparks.

Ana stopped, looking like she'd gotten her hand stuck in a cookie jar.

"I can explain," Ana said.

"What, that you're a superhero and you forgot to tell me?" Monique asked. How could Ana keep something like this to herself? From the looks of Ana's pained expression, Monique had hit the nail on the head.

"Well, not _superhero_..." Ana hedged. "I was going to tell you, I really was. It's just...I can barely use my powers. I'm iffy on how I got them. I couldn't tell you exactly what I do. I don't really think about them much. So...there's not a lot to tell."

Monique crossed her arms. The two of them hadn't gotten into a physical altercation with each other since Monique's sophomore year when she'd given up fighting lessons for Youtube tutorials on hair and makeup. She crossed her arms in the hopes that the desire to hit her big sister would die out.

"Okay, start at the beginning," Monqiue said. "When did you figure out you had powers?"

  
He hadn't even thought about making amends with people, he really hadn't. Beyond a verbal apology to his family and friends, Brandy hadn't started the whole process of actually trying to mend damaged relationships. But this wasn't a relationship to be mended.

Kendra opened the door, an unimpressed look on her face. She crossed her arms under her chest, waiting for Brandy to explain why he was on her doorstep. He saw a whole new pain blossoming around her head. Brandy was pretty sure 'heartache' wasn't too far off base.

"I want to apologize for the way I treated you," he said. "I was...going through some stuff. I shouldn't have brushed you off the way I did. You deserve better than that. I'm sorry."

"That's really nice, Brandy," Kendra said. "You can go fuck yourself now."

Brandy nodded. He hadn't wanted or even expected forgiveness. But maybe she could find closure from it. Maybe he could find closure.

  
Ana sipped her wine. It was something Monique liked - sweet and cloying. But Monique seemed to need the drink.

"So...have you _tried_ to be a superhero?" Monique asked, staring at her fourth glass of the nearly clear wine. "I mean, you're trained in hand-to-hand. That plus your speed or whatever should make you a shoe-in. Have you thought about tracking down the Arrow?"

"As far as I can tell, the Arrow is a sociopath," Ana said. "And I only stopped a robbery because I was there when it started. I can't control the speed. So...I was thinking...I'd find a better job and help you with the bills."

"Superhero movies are all about how powers are connected to your feelings," Monique said. "Have you cried about Mom yet?"

"Are you and Bryce talking about this behind my back?" Ana asked.

"Nope," Monique said. "But I should. You haven't cried since I first told you. There are...five stages of grief, and you need to go through them all to get your chakra or whatever unblocked."

"I've already grieved - sort of," Ana said, swirling the wine in her glass. "I'm working on it. It's a process."

  
"You can't tell me you've done _nothing_ in the past nine months," Ethan said, gaping at Brandy. "You didn't hang out with anyone?"

"I...talked to the lady who cut my hair," Brandy said. "And cashiers. Sometimes I said hi to-"

"Dude, are you okay?" Ethan asked, putting a hand on Brandy's shoulder. "You spent, like, nine months in solitary confinement." Brandy rolled his eyes.

"I spent three of those months fending off people I knew," Brandy said. "I...I needed space. I did some apologizing to people I knew today. I talked to Kendra. She officially hates me."

"Yeah, I could've told you that," Ethan said. "So, what's up next? More apologizing?"

"Probably," Brandy said. "Maybe followed by some internet dating mixed with attempting to get my life back together. Maybe getting a D&D group together."

"You know, I've never played that, but I sort of want to," Ethan said. "If you're looking for members, I'd get in on that." Brandy traced the rim of his glass. He was going to have to come up with better code than 'D&D' for the superpowers.

  
Ana hefted the pack of beer onto her shoulder. She hesitated at her normal jerky stop. She'd had to start supplementing her diet with carbs. She grabbed a bag of chips with her jerky.

A gun in her face made her drop it all. Electricity ran over her skin as she slapped the gun away. She knocked him into a display of pastries. Ana passed over him, heading to the counter.

It was the same guy from before. At the same convenience store. With another accomplice. Only this time he'd chosen to wear a yellow and purple unitard and a mask that barely covered his identity. But it was him. And once again he was crushing the register.

"Seriously?" Ana demanded. He stopped crushing the register, turning his power on Ana. She pushed sideways, finding she had to go pretty far in order to break free of the pressure. So he'd gotten better at using his power, too.

She jumped over the counter and smacked him across the face before he could turn his head to see that she'd moved. His body once again fell into the tobacco.

"Why would you rob the same place twice?" she demanded. But he was already out. Ana stepped over him, leaving him for the police. So much for a beer run.

It had been a good question for the robber. But, it also sort of held one for her. Why would she keep going to a convenience store she knew was prone to being robbed? Why wasn't she moving forward? Was it where she lived, or was it what she did?

Ana slipped into an alley. She crouched in the position runners took. It wasn't something her body was used to. She was someone who did warm ups and stances. But it felt right tonight. Doing something new. Moving into uncharted territory. That's what she wanted to do.

Ana took off running, not quite sure if she was using her powers or not. She was crossing a lot of distance very quickly. She felt like she was running on the air that blew past her. The buildings were blurred in her vision, but the path before her was clear.

When she was on the mat, the power she exerted was a solid one. A power that was firm and destructive, like a sledgehammer. Running with her speed felt more akin to fire or water - something she couldn't quite capture with her hands. It had a volatility to it.

Her grip on her power was wrenched from her when her shoes caught fire. Ana tripped, skidding over the pavement and missing three cars. She stopped just short of a curb.

"Fuck," she groaned.

  
For having been out all night drinking, Brandy was feeling pretty good. Emotionally, anyway. He was sporting a bruise and a bitchin' hangover, but a night talking with Ethan made him feel normal. Or like one day he might be normal again.

Ana looked like she'd had quite a night of her own. She had a good scrape across the back of her hand.

"Do you think I'm capable of growing back my nerves better than other people?" she asked.

"Maybe," Brandy said. "What happened to you?"

"Road rash - I ran around Keystone with my speed," Ana said. "My shoes caught fire and I slid across the road - in athletic wear."

Brandy hissed. He'd seen his fair share of motorcycle accidents. The brunt of the damage wasn't usually the skin, but he'd seen a few cases where the bleeding from the road rash was bad enough that the skin grafts was the first priority.

"I can't really feel my feet right now," she said.

"You'll have to...get some better shoes," Brandy said. "Thick soles. You'll probably need leather. And you'll need something to protect you from road rash. And probably something to keep you from cracking your head open."

"Leather is so hot," Ana muttered. "When is that meeting with the others?"

"Tomorrow," Brandy said. "Good thing, too."

"So you had fun last night? Even with the...stuff?" Ana asked. She made a motion, as if something were flying at her face.

"After my third drink, I didn't really notice as much," Brandy said. "Mostly because I didn't care."

"Alcohol does that," Ana said. Brandy tapped his cup. He didn't want to bring it up again so soon, but he hadn't meant to pry. Besides, the halo of pain wasn't nearly as bad today.

"About what I said yesterday with figuring out why you're hurting," Brandy said. "I just noticed that people get a certain...look around their head when they have an emotional stress. And you had it pretty bad yesterday. And that's all I'm going to say."

"It's okay," Ana sighed. "You were right to. I needed a kick in the pants. When I don't know where I'm going, I can really be all over the place. Sometimes I need someone to let me know what's going on. Someone to tell me where I should be putting my focus. So thanks."

"Well, I've been known to be right sometimes," Brandy teased, winking.

  
The locks on all the file cabinets had been broken. It looked like someone had taken a crowbar to them. The theif had come in and started opening the top drawer of each cabinet until he reached the fifth one. The only file missing was for himself. The thief had forgotten to take the folder.

Cameron looked at the file from being a client five years ago. He'd been asking for genealogy and property documentation.

"What materials don't burn up so easily?" Ana asked. Cameron tore his eyes away from the file, about to chastise her for interrupting him. But her sleeves were pushed up. Long scabs ran up both arms in strange places.

"Motorcycle accident," she said. "Which is why I'm asking about flame retardant clothes."

"Uh," Cameron said. Those scabs looked weeks old, not hours. She'd been wearing a t-shirt yesterday - there was no way he wouldn't have seen them. "Well, to avoid road rash, there are options available. There's leather, but there are polyester and tripolymer options as well. All three are rather flame resistant. Tripolymer is mostly used in building materials, but it's being developed as a textile."

"Thanks," Ana said. "What happened in here?"

"Our thief was looking for our information," Cameron said. "Nothing too bad. Now I have a second data point to help me search. I'll let you know if I need any help."

"Are you sure?" Ana asked. Cameron waved her off. Line one rang. Ana left to get it.

So someone was looking for him. They hadn't come to his house that morning, else he might not have come to work at all. But maybe no one was looking for him.

Cameron grabbed his coat. He pulled his gun from the bottom drawer.

  
Even with the mild Keystone winters, the homeless still needed blankets. It was still a few months away, but every now and again, the nights got pretty cold. Monique piled her latest shopping spree into Greg's cart. The old man smoothed his hand over the hideous orange comforter on top.

"Thanks, hon," he said. "This is a real help."

"Oh, you're helping me, though," Monique said. "You're helping me indulge my shopping addiction."

Greg chuckled. "I'm so disappointed that my _free_ ice cream was given to me because the freezer space is needed." Monique bent down to give him a hug. He reached right up with his short arms to grip her hard.

"Thanks for being there for me," Monique said. "Even though I wasn't exactly...easy to get to. Tell Margie thanks, too."

"Oh, she already knows," Greg said. He let her go when she was ready.

"Where is that lady?" Monique asked.

"She got a little burn," Greg said, glancing over at John. He stood uselessly to the side, looking like he was about to knife someone for a hit.

Monique leaned in to whisper, "Is he violent? Did he burn Margie?"

Greg chewed his lip. "Not the way you think, Monique."

"How did he burn her," Monique said. It was not a question. It was a demand. One that she wasn't about to let Greg drop. She hadn't knocked anyone out since a catfight in high school, but she was pretty sure she could take a malnourished tweaker.

"Monique, you'd believe me if I told you that I don't need meds, right?" Greg asked. Monique nodded. "Well, he made fire."

"With what? Matches? A lighter?" Monique asked.

"He _opened his hands_ ," Greg said. "Margie saw it, too. I don't think he meant to burn her. He was real sorry about it. But, I tell you, hon, his hands lit on fire. All by themselves." Someone with abilities. Was that even possible? Ana hadn't mentioned anyone else. But then again, Ana was hiding things.

"I think John is a government experiment," Greg said. "I know, I know. It sounds crazy. But...how else do you explain that such a young man knows about the Vietnam War?"

Monique gave John a once-over.

"I'll look into it," Monique said. "If he's really from an experiment or whatever, he's probably got PTSD. Maybe I can get a hold of some meds. Maybe see if we can get him in a frame of mind to tell us who he is. In the meantime, let me grab you something for Margie."

"You're a good one, Monique," Greg said.

  
Cameron wouldn't be such a fool to drop his gun, even if he did feel so weak in the knees. He'd found his front door broken open, like someone had detonated the handle off. Seemed like a lot of work to go to just for a handle.

But now that he was in his living room, it all seemed to vanish. After vanishing to god knew where, here she was, in his apartment.

"Bette," Cameron breathed. She smiled, not moving to hug him. When he moved towards her, she flinched away. Cameron set the gun on the end table and reached again.

"You can't," Bette said. "I'm not safe."

"Bette, you're the safest person I know," Cameron said. "You're _back_." She smiled at him, tears budding in her eyes.

"A lot has happened," she said.

  
"You're not alone," Monique said. Ana stared up at her sister. Monique was less excited and more...suspicious.

"I have you," Ana said.

"There's a John Doe that Greg and Margie took in, and he's got powers," Monique said. "He can catch fire. I didn't see it, but that's what Greg said."

"Cool," Ana said. She wondered what her life would be like if she could do that. Or shoot lightning from her hands. "So, what's his deal?"

"I was wondering if you could help me get some meds for him," Monique said. "Or help him control his powers."

"I'll see what I can do about meds," Ana said. People acted like private investigators always had a drug hookup just around the corner. Maybe for a PI who worked a lot with drugs, that was a thing. Or Greyson - the man knew everything about everyone and where to find your deepest desires. But as for Ana - had a nurse friend. Okay, so that was more applicable to her now. Maybe.

"And his powers?" Monique asked.

"I'll...figure something out with him later," Ana said. How the hell was she supposed to help someone who burst into flames? That didn't exactly translate well. It wasn't like trying to teach a dancer or a gymnast how to fight. It was like teaching a horseback rider parkour. "Um, do you have something that's not a dress that will fit in with night life?"

  
Brandy hadn't known what to expect when meeting Mike. He certainly hadn't expected an old hipster with a pair of thick black glasses. The older man was build wide and had hands that could only be described as 'paws'.

"Nice to meet you," Brandy said. He wasn't used to having his hand entirely engulfed by another man's hand. Mike was probably only just as tall as Monique, so that didn't make him super tall for a guy. Just slightly taller than Brandy.

"Nice to meet you, too," Mike said. Brandy had a hard time focusing on Mike. He kept seeing orange spots whenever he looked at the man. Or maybe it was the trick of the street lamp.

Just as they were pulling their hands away, Mike's slid right through Brandy's. It sent chills up Brandy's spine.

"Sorry," Mike said. "I'm still working on it. I've gotten a lot better since I started juicing."

"Juicing?" Brandy asked.

"I did it because I was low on potassium and magnesium. Then two weeks later, I noticed that I wasn't phasing through stuff as much," Mike said. "It could be the placebo effect, but I don't want to take my chances."

"I've...just been trying to tell the difference between two different kinds of pain," Brandy said lamely.

Jimena ran up, looking very much out of breath. She had one of those updo's Brandy loved, the kind that had a million tendrils hanging down.

"Hey, Mike, Brandy," Jimena panted. "Is Ana coming?"

"She should-," Brandy started. A air gushed into the center of the group. Ana hit the wall they were standing next to. "-be."

"Ow," Ana grunted, holding her shoulder. "It's always that one."

"Okay, that was cooler than I thought it'd be," Mike said. He held out one of his shovel-sized hands out to Ana. She took it, letting him pull her to her feet.

  
"The particle accelerator explosion?" Mike asked. "You really think so?"

"As far as I can tell, that's when the increase in weird stuff happened," Brandy said. "Some immediate, some not so much. Like, my powers waited two weeks to show up."

"I guess I didn't really notice until I got a bad haircut," Jimena said. "Which was post-explosion."

"No, wait," Mike said. "No, I remember now. The night of the explosion, I fell. It would've been just high enough to hurt me. I must've passed out because I was a floor below the one I fell onto. I didn't start phasing on accident until a month later."

Jimena looked to Ana. "How did you figure out you had powers?"

Ana shrugged. "I noticed something was off the day I woke up. It wasn't until I was caught in the middle of a robbery that I actually used my powers."

"You stopped a robbery?" Mike asked, a little incredulous. He reached for his glass of beer, but his hand slid right through. He stopped, balled his fist up for a moment, then reached again with more success.

"I'm a personal trainer," Ana said. "I specialize in krav maga."

"Fair enough," Mike said. "What do you think about my juicing? Think it's helping?"

"It could be," Ana said. "Do you have a log of juicing in comparison to your incidents of phasing?"

The three talked about ways to control their powers. How diets and exercise might have an effect on certain aspects. Jimena chewed her straws. She didn't have much to add. After all, she used her power easily. She just kept soaking her hair in coconut oil.

"It's getting a bit easier," Ana said. "The only problem is that I need clothes and shoes that won't ignite."

"I can help with that," Jimena blurted out. She sat up. "I could get some of Mercury Lab's old poly weave. It's got way above average heat resistance. Maybe I could get you some. It's not as good as Star's new tripolymer weave, but I'd bet my next paycheck it works better than your clothes."

"You'd do that?" Ana asked.

"Well, you're helping us out," Jimena said, puffing her chest out. "Why not?" She wasn't up to date on fad diets or anything. But she'd be damned if she wasn't going to contribute to the group.

"Thanks," Ana said. "That really helps. What do you do again?"

"I'm a textiles expert," Jimena said. "I help companies pick fabrics. You know...maybe there's a material that you can't phase through, Mike. If we could figure that out, maybe I can make you some pants."

Mike laughed. "Oh, but I so enjoy the embarrassment on the bus when I phase right through everything I'm wearing."


	4. Laws of Gravity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Monique helps John Doe. Mike looks for help with his powers. Brandy has an epiphany.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The crossover between the two stories with Ana and Iris happened because I wanted to tentatively play with how the stories interact with each other. I don't expect every minor crossover to make it into both stories.

Despite Bette's insistence that she couldn't be touched, Cameron found himself stroking her face while she slept. At any moment, his hand might blow to smithereens. But it was worth every second.

Of course, Bette wouldn't know where to look for him. The last time she'd known where he lived, he'd been working at Greyson's. And then she'd gone to war under Eiling's command, and Cameron had moved.

He gave Bette a gentle kiss on the forehead. He couldn't undo the damage Eiling had wrought, but he could protect her from any more damage.

  
The man poked his head in, not even entering fully until he'd observed the whole room. He skirted the side wall, sidling up to Brandy. He twitched and spasmed. Probably from drug use. Maybe neurological.

"Hey, John," Brandy said. "Come sit down." John eased himself into a chair, clutching his coat close to his chest.

Brandy had been journaling his powers, what different types meant. He was getting better at knowing what was wrong just by looking. He'd say it was an emotional trauma, but the sections of emotion pulsed at two very different speeds. The rest of the body was much the same - two clouds trying to express the same thing.

John was more than in pain. He had powers, just like Ana had said he might. His aura was a flickering red and blue.

"I'm Brandy," Brandy said. "I'm going to see if you're okay. I won't tell anyone about you, John. You're safe. Do you know that you're safe?" John wouldn't look Brandy in the eye. He lunged to the side then back, shrugging out of his jacket.

  
Monique met Brandy at the door. Brandy wiped his forehead off.

"So, how did it go?" Monique asked, patting his forehead off with a clean towel. Any small room John entered always got uncomfortably warm.

"Well, he's got powers," Brandy said. "But damn if I know what they are. He's got arthritis in both knees and his hands. I gave him a quick eye exam - he's nearsighted. Probably has an astigmatism. He's definitely got something neurological, but I'd need an MRI to be sure."

"So what do we do?" Monique asked.

"You could take him down to the clinic on Abbot," Brandy said. "They're pretty cheap. I'd get him in for his brain. See if you can get him in to see a psychologist. Not a councilor. There's a difference."

"What's the difference?" Monique asked.

"One can prescribe him medication. The other will prod him with questions that he may or may not respond to," Brandy explained. "I gave him a sponge bath. He wouldn't go near the tub."

"Thank you," Monqiue said.

  
To him, it was like slipping into a bath. The temperature of that bath entirely depended on how cold the object was. Or so Mike was pretty sure. Even when he'd accidentally phased through boiling water, he hadn't been so much as scalded.

But that didn't mean that he got into uncomfortable and painful situations. The water didn't hurt his body, but it was still painful. Phasing through a wall didn't hurt, but when he got stuck, he couldn't reach back through the wall and grab his phone - his phone didn't phase with him.

Mike braced his arms against the wall, keeping himself upright. He was going to be late for work. He didn't know for sure. His watch was on the other side of the wall.

"Mike, I'm coming in," Jimena called. She walked through his unlocked door, slowing down as she took in the scene. She set her purse down. Her hands opened and closed as she inspected the intersection between his torso and the wall.

"I just have to let it pass," Mike sighed. "There's nothing you can do." Jimena snorted and trot off deeper into his apartment. There was some clacking. She came back a minute later with two chairs. One she moved so that Mike could lean against it.

"So, I was thinking that maybe we could, like, start a group. Kind of like the Avengers," Jimena said, smoothing down the back of her skirt as she sat.

"You have wild hair. I can't control my phasing," Mike said. "How are we supposed to save the world?"

"You could totally be a super-hero," Jimena said. "But, that's only sort of what I was going for. Maybe not...heroes. As far as I can tell, having powers has been tough for you. Maybe if we had more people, you could meet someone who could teach you how to control this."

"Like a help group? Like AA?" Mike asked.

"Yeah," Jimena said. "We could have chips for people who figure out how to control their powers. And we could meet once a week to exchange stories and tips on what works for us. I mean, for all we know, it's like dieting. The diet has to work for you."

"What works for controlling your power?" Mike asked. Jimena shrugged.

"I really couldn't tell you," she said. "I just use my power. I don't even really think about it past thinking of what shape my hair would have to be to be in a certain hairstyle." Her updo came undone, hovering in the air for a second before re-arranging itself as something even more complex.

"What is it like?" Mike pressed. "How does it feel?"

"Honestly? It's like having a bunch of extra fingers," Jimena said. "And I don't have to think about how to use my fingers. I just do. I have a desire, and my fingers follow through. It's like typing or writing. Picking something up. You just do it, you know?"

Was that what all powers were like? Just a new set of muscles to flex? Mike hadn't really used his power much. Mostly because he felt like he'd fall through the garage floor every time he tried to phase his hand through something. But sometimes being able to reach through one object to loosen a bolt really helped.

"What is it like when you phase through something?" Jimena asked. "Like, when you phase out."

"It's like...stepping out of a sauna," Mike said. "The air inside is all hot and thick and then you step into the normal air. Or coming in from the cold. The air is so thin inside, and then you're out of the cold, and it's warm. You don't feel different beyond temperature and...air thickness."

"Try wiggling between the rooms," Jimena said. Mike rolled his eyes. He slid forwards a little. In the other room, his pants phased through his legs.

Mike pushed through the wall, ending up naked on the other side. Jimena didn't flinch at his nakedness. Not even a blush.

"Okay, that helped," Mike said.

"Good!" Jimena chirped. She looked like the cat that ate the canary. "Well, if you don't need a ride to work, I really need to get going."

"Lemme get some pants," Mike said, running for his room.

  
Ana was curious about this 'Streak'. She'd only just figured out her own powers, so this person in red couldn't be her. So it was someone with powers.

There hadn't been a lot of information about Iris West online. But here at the meeting spot was one from online - a pretty woman who dressed nice. She looked like a lot of the aspiring journalist types - perky young women who liked the same kinds of books Monique did.

"Iris West?" Ana asked. Iris turned, taking Ana in.

"Anastasia?" Iris asked. Ana hated the length of her name.

"Just Ana," she said, brushing the name off. "So, you weren't quite clear - what exactly am I going to take a picture of?" Iris pulled out some prints and handed them off.

They were essentially all pictures of Central City with a red blur smeared through each one. Ana sorted them in her hands by location. It was easy enough - most of them had the same buildings in them.

"Have you heard the stories about the red blur going around saving people?" Iris asked. "Robberies where the authorities arrive and the thieves are already tied up? But the thieves don't even know how they got that way? I was hoping that you could help me get a picture of him."

"It sounds like you'd have to be at the scene of a crime to even have a chance at getting a shot," Ana said, still examining the pictures. She didn't see any crime scenes in the pictures, so maybe she was wrong about that.

"That's why I mapped out the sightings," Iris said, pulling out a map of Central City. It was littered in colored dots. "The red dots are just sightings. Blue are crime scenes he appeared at."

Ana looked over the map. The biggest concentration of red dots was a place she knew was always packed. It wasn't so far fetched to think that there were multiple reports for one appearance of the Streak. A better place was one near Star Labs. There were a lot less sightings, less people, and it would have to turn the corner.

"You keep saying 'he'," Ana said. "Have you actually seen this guy well enough to place gender?" If that was the case, then the location of that sighting would be even more preferred.

"No," Iris said. "I just...to me being a superhero is sort of a guy thing. But maybe that's just because my best friend is a nerd....Are you still in?"

"As long as you're still paying," Ana said. "I'll set up shop here." She pointed to the preferred choice.

"But there are more sightings here," Iris said, pointing at the more crowded spot.

"It's more crowded there," Ana explained. "It'll be harder to get a clean shot. Besides, most of the photographs are taken here. It's probably because he's turning the corner. It's a sharp turn. He has to slow down a little."

Ana pulled out her contract and handed it over. Iris scanned it, realization dawning on her face.

"What if I want to publish them on my blog?" Iris asked.

"It says here that you'll have to contact me for me to give you written permission to publish. You might have to pay a royalty," Ana said, pointing to the paragraph.

"But it's for a blog," Iris insisted. "I won't be getting any money from it."

Ana had met a few artists - real, published individuals who had more talent in one finger than Ana did in her whole body. They were people who others actually wanted to steal from, and they'd given Ana some good advice. Advice Ana had passed onto lots of perky journalist types who probably needed it.

"Iris, you want to be a journalist, right? As someone who wants to be an artist, I can tell you that you need to put everything in writing," Ana said. "I haven't gotten the short end of the stick because others warned me early to protect my intellectual property. I'm not going to apologize for trying to protect what's mine."

Okay, so she'd only never gotten the short end of the stick because no one wanted to steal her work anyway. But who knew - maybe Iris was a talented writer. Not a lot of people knew that Ana was a good fighter just by looking at her.

"How much do you usually charge for a royalty?" Iris asked.

  
"This is all your product?" Jimena asked.

"Yes," the assistant said. "It's not our whole color palette, of course. I'm sure if you had something in mind, we could whip it up."

Jimena smoothed her hands over the different fabrics. For a multi-million dollar laboratory, they were surprisingly unprepared for a presentation of fabrics. The sizes weren't uniform. There was barely enough to get more than texture and color from each. There wasn't enough to get drape.

"I'm here for two separate kinds of cloth," Jimena said. "I'm looking for your fabrics that are over half recycled. I'm also looking for things that are flame retardant slash friction proof. The sort you'd use in extreme sports."

"Ah, yes," he said. "Certainly." He sorted out the available options into three groups. One of the piles he set to the side.

"These are all recycled fabrics," the assistant said. "And these are all fire proof fabrics." Jimena went for the recycled ones first. The market for 'green' everything was exploding still. Clothes were just the next natural step in that process.

"Can you tell me about a few of these?" Jimena asked. "Do you have a chart on what they're made of?"

  
The halls stood empty and dusty save for a few aspiring young lawyers and people looking for family history. Or private investigators looking for a misfiled land deed.

"I found it," Ana exclaimed, pulling the browning folder out of the cabinet. "It was filed under 'Goodwin-Bennet' not 'Bennet'." Cameron shoved his cabinet closed. He leaned against it, closing his eyes.

"So she found you, huh?" Ana asked. Cameron opened his eyes.

"Who found me?" he asked.

"Your girlfriend," Ana said. "Or, at least, that's what the evidence points to. Is she your girlfriend or a crazy ex?" Cameron made a scoffing noise, pushing off the cabinet.

"Dude, someone broke into Greyson Investigations to look for you," Ana said. "It reeked of perfume in there. You don't sleep at night any more. And you smell like the same perfume every morning."

Cameron flopped his arms, as if he was trying to show her that there was nothing more to offer. "Okay, so my girlfriend is in town. What's it to you?"

"I just want to make sure that you're not being pressured by the mob or something," Ana said. "Not that something like that would ever happen in this town. But, if something like that were to happen to you, I'd try to help you, Cameron."

"How are you supposed to help me against the mob?" Cameron asked.

"Call the cops," Ana said, patting his shoulder. "Try to be there to get pictures."

  
Monique led John back into the alley. Greg and Margie were waiting for him, bowls of soup in their hands. It looked like Josh had made good on his promise to feed the vets.

"I've got good and bad news," Monique said quietly. "The good news is they think they know what's wrong with him. He's got a form of dissasosiative identity disorder."

"And the bad news?" Margie asked.

"It's gunna be a pain in the ass to get him the medication," Monique said. "He's literally a John Doe. Apperantly putting a prescription for him could be considered fraud."

"So what do we do?" Greg asked.

Monique had taken a lot of time off the restaurant. Utkin's wasn't suffering, but she was the owner. She shouldn't be taking so much time away from it. If Joe was Greg or Margie or Kreig or really anyone from the gang, she'd do more. She'd sic Ana on finding identification. She'd pay out of pocket to get those pills.

But she didn't know this man. Not nearly like she knew the rest of these men and women. John was dangerous. Helping him could get her burned.

"I'll see if Ana can do anything for him," Monique said. "But...we need to prepare for what happens if we can't find anything."

  
"Fuck, it's cold," Cameron muttered.

"This is what a stakeout is really like," Ana said. "If you don't like it, go home to your girlfriend." Even now, she couldn't refrain from being annoying. She wasn't the only one who'd been on stakeouts before. He was just commenting quietly to himself.

"I would, but I don't really trust you to get the job done," Cameron said. A paycheck from Mr. Lambertson didn't just help Greyson and Ana. It helped the whole company. And the husband was getting antsy.

Ana started taking pictures. "They're early."

"Really?" Cameron asked. He held up his binoculars. The room in question had a couple, madly grasping at each other. Finally, they had her.

  
"I don't think the magnesium is helping," Mike said. "I thought it was, but I really don't think so. There's no difference."

"It takes time for the changes to set in," Brandy protested. "It's been, like, three days, dude. Be patient. You'll stop phasing." Mike shook his head.

"I don't want to wait," Mike said. "I feel like everyone is watching me all the time. I feel like someone's gunna see me phase and then I'm gunna get picked up by the army the next day to be an experiment."

Brandy hardly had that problem. He didn't have anything visual to hide. It hadn't even occurred to him that someone might find out and try to experiment on him. He'd have to mention that to Ana and Jimena.

"You know, Ana has been practicing with her powers a little more," Brandy said. "Maybe you should talk to her. Or Jimena. That chick has her ducks in a row."

"Jimena doesn't even know how she controls her own powers," Mike said. "And what would Ana offer me? She runs fast. I fall through the floor."

"Yeah, but the two of you have on and off switches to your power," Brandy explained. "I can't shut out the pain. I don't stop seeing it until I'm alone. I've been dealing with it in a way that works for me. I've been giving you advice based on my powers."

Brandy hoped he was making sense. Mike wasn't responding. He still had a scowl carved into his face. The emotional distress around his head thumped to a different rythm, sort of flickering. It almost looked like it was getting just a little smaller.

"Jimena suggested that we should get together more," Mike said. "Like a support group." The first thing that came to mind was AA. The second was group therapy.

"Like, if Ana were here, I could just turn to her and ask her about how her power turns on and off," Mike said.

It occured to Brandy that that was how groups like AA and therapy were supposed to work. It was just like a brain trust. There was a problem - either one large one, or minor ones - that people met to solve. It didn't have to be a thing of shame.

"Do you have tomorrow off?" Brandy asked.

  
_"Hey, Dad," Ana said, hugging Roman around the waist. He guided her away from the mat._

_"Myshka, you make me so proud," Roman said, his Russian accent thicker than his mustache. "But you are not proud of your work." Her last gymnastics meet hadn't been what she'd hoped it would be. She knew she was capable of doing so much better. She'd dropped a whole point across the board._

_"I just...this is what I'm good at," Ana said._

_"You become good at anything you put your mind to," Roman said. "You see, you focus on it so much that you pour all of yourself into it. And if you want to become good at something very fast, is good way of doing it."_

_"But...," Ana said, trying to lead him to his point._

_"You are very good at focusing on one thing. You put up blinders," Roman said. "You must realize that when you split focus, all talent is spread out. So you do not get performance you have come to expect."_

_The buzzer in the gym went off. Ana jolted. That...wasn't right. That hadn't happened in this memory._

_"But you must also remember that focusing too much, and you let go all things you don't focus on," Roman said. "Find the balance that you can live with, Myshka, and you will be happy."_

Ana sat up and grabbed her phone. She shut it off. She was already late for work. She jumped out of bed, skipping her morning workout.

It wasn't until her arm swung out a little further than she'd intended that she realized that she was moving with her speed. She slowed, trying to hold onto the feeling of even pressure across her body. She could feel it faltering as she slowed.

It ran out as soon as she was a block away from Greyson Investigations. Ana inspected her shoes. They were second-hand, but the slightly worn treads were almost smooth. Great.

Her dream-memory was still at the forefront of her mind. She wanted to be good at her job and help Monique and move out and get a second job and help the other super-humans and be good at her powers and-

And she wanted too much at once. Ana knew her focus was too split. She still felt stuck in the same place she'd been in prior to the coma. A woman who lived at home. A woman who lived in the past.

  
Cameron was there to meet Mr. Lambertson. The forty-something man had eyes only for the prints that they'd hastily made that morning when Ana hadn't shown up. Greyson didn't say anything as Mr. Lambertson shuffled through them. When he was done, he set them back on the desk.

"How soon can I take these to court?" Mr. Lambertson asked.

"As soon as you get them to your lawyer," Greyson said. "I have your bill right here." Mr. Lambertson was already pulling out his checkbook. He only glanced over at the bill for a moment. He handed the check to Geyson.

"Do I...tip the photographer?" Mr. Lambertson asked.

"She earns commission," Greyson said. Mr. Lambertson nodded. He picked up the prints, looking over them again. Cameron couldn't imagine what he was going through. His wife was cheating on him, and she was eating up all his money doing it, too.

"Have your lawyer call us," Cameron said. "So we can send copies to him, too." Mr. Lambertson nodded, sort of half-staggering out the door.

A few moments after the door shut, Greyson sighed, pulling on his suspenders. "I don't think he'll make any trouble. But...you never know. Can you get on that property dispute?"

"Sure," Cameron said.

  
"Do you believe in superpowers?" Dan asked.

He was a scrawny kid of about fourteen, if Brandy had to guess. He came from school every day to see his dad. Dan had been coming for over a week, and the boredom was showing. A few days ago he'd started following Brandy from room to room, sitting outside while Brandy attended to patients. He'd already exhausted all the questions he had about equipment and adulthood.

"Yeah, I suppose," Brandy said. He had to suspsect that Dan had powers. When he strained his eyes over Dan, he saw an almost imperceptible shade of lime green. "I hear there's a guy in Alaska who can raise his internal body temperature so that he can go jogging in snowstorms."

"Do you have a superpower?" Dan pried. Another question that Brandy wanted to avoid. Over the past few days, he'd realized that he couldn't oversimplify things to Dan. Or do that down-talk voice that adults always seemed to do around kids.

"I can see how people are hurting," Brandy said. "And because I see how they're hurting, I can better help them."

Dan's mouth popped open. His aura was there, and Brandy wasn't even trying to see it. It faded again.

"Dude, you're not supposed to tell people that you have powers," Dan said, looking at Brandy with pity and disappointment. "But, like, I'm glad you told me."

"And what makes you think that my superpower is superhuman?" Brandy asked. It wasn't like he'd phased through anything.

"You don't look at people when you talk," Dan said. "You're looking at stuff _around_ them. Like you're hallucinating things. And you never ask where things hurt or how much - it's like you know. You know the level of pain my dad is in without him saying so."

He was a really observant fourteen year old. At fourteen, Brandy had been more distracted by girls at school and childish bets with his friends.

"I can...see and hear the truth," Dan explained. "Sort of. It's not like I can see and hear it for everything. It's...complicated." Dan hadn't been in any emotional distress until then. A little of it popped up around his head.

"Is it always on?" Brandy asked. Dan nodded. The kid stuffed his hands in his pockets. Well, it was probably safe to assume that colors indicated powers.

"Yeah, it sucks a lot," Brandy said. "It's distracting. And annoying."

"What do you do to make it better?" Dan asked.

"I use it every day," Brandy said. "I do something productive with it. I exersize it every day in a way only you've noticed. You could try that."

"How?" Dan snorted.

"Does your school have a newspaper?" Brandy asked.

  
Monique rapped her fingers on the desk. She barely had time for a break today, let alone this. But it was probably the only chance they had to get the identity of John.

"Greyson Investigations, this is Greyson," the man said.

"It's Monique, Ana's sister," Monique said. "I was wondering if I could send you a photograph and fingerprints for you to look into someone. I just need a verification of identity."

"Sure," Greyson said. "How urgent?"

"Not especially," Monique said. "You can have Ana come by and pick them up. She ran out before I could send them with her.

"I'll see what I can do," Greyson said. He hung up. Monique got to her feet. She took a deep breath, held it for ten seconds, then let it out.

She turned to the next problem on her list. Ah, the truck was coming in tomorrow and there was no one who would be able to unload it with her.

  
Ana was on the steps of the Keystone Public Library eating her lunch when Mike found her. He was wearing an oversized jacket and smelled of grease.

"Lunch break?" Ana asked. Mike hunkered his massive body down next to her. It wasn't that he was fat or thin. It was that he was just...big.

"Yeah," he said. "I thought I could get some tips from you about powers."

"You could've called," Ana said. She bit into her falafel. It was a little dry today. But plenty of tomato.

"I don't have your number," Mike said. "So I couldn't call for tips."

"You fall through walls," Ana said. "I run really fast. I'm not sure how I can help you." She grabbed for her drink.

"Brandy mentioned that his power is constantly on," Mike explained. "But yours isn't. Mine isn't. Maybe something you do can help me." Ana wiped her mouth off with the back of her hand. It made a little sense.

"Well, I use my power best when I'm focused on one thing," Ana said. "I'm not clearing my mind or anything. I just pick a topic and stick to it. I feel like when I start thinking of too many things at once or I break focus entirely, I lose that grip on my powers."

Mike nodded. "That makes sense."

"Also, when I'm _trying_ to go fast, I've been trying to feel the difference of when I'm fast and when I'm not," Ana said. "Like, I pretend like I'm already going fast by imaginging the feeling of my heart beating really fast and the pressure spreading across my body. And sometimes that really helps. But...sometimes I just go fast first without thinking about it."

Mike wasn't moving. He looked like he was staring at the remnants of her falafel.

"Do you want a bite?" Ana asked. Mike nodded over, like he was motioning to something. Ana looked over. Crossing the street from Keystone National Bank was none other than Mr. Yellow-and-Purple-Spandex toting a duffel that had bills fluttering out. She grimaced.

"Well, apparently this idiot is smart enough to get away from the police in the nick of time," Ana said. She set her food down and dusted off her pants.

"You're just gunna use your powers here?" Mike hissed.

"What? It's not like anyone is fast enough to see me," Ana said. "Besides, my family banks at Keystone National." She slid into a position that she could push off from the steps. The electricity crackled up her spine.

She crossed the street, jumping such that she could land a kick to his jaw. A second into her jump, the silence of the world stopped. She was still using her power, but the stillness she'd come to expect vanished as she fell. It was like a huge hand knocking her to the ground. Her head cracked against the pavement.

Around her, cars were starting to cave in against the same invisible force, just a little. Lamp posts wobbled. Her head felt like it was going to split open. She felt like she couldn't breathe.

"I'm really glad you came," Mr. Spandex said. His costume had only moderately improved. It didn't look like he'd sewed two unitards together. "I just wanted to show you that you're completely powerless to stop me. And I didn't even have a partner this time."

Ana opened her mouth. Damn. The one time she had a witty line and she couldn't even say it. There was no air to say it. God. Fucking. Dammit. The next time a moment like this happened again, the stars would be aligned during a blue moon with a meteor shower.

"Oh, what's that? Trying to say that you'll be avenged?" Spandex asked, holding a hand to his ear. "I can't quite hear you."

Mike plowed into him, taking him down in an instant. The weight lifted from her body. Ana gasped, getting to her feet. She picked up his clothes from a few feet away. It looked like he'd phased right through those, too.

Ana said, held out Mike's clothes to him. He got off the unconscious man. He didn't even bother to try to cover up. Instead, he towed her to an alley. Some homeless were already occupying it, but they didn't seem to mind Mike as he got dressed.

"What is wrong with you?" he demanded. "What if some secret organization kidnaps us and tries to enslave us? Or experiment on us?"

Ana didn't really have any response to that. It sounded too much like a movie. Some secret government organization taking citizens captive because of what they could do.

  
He was definitely being followed.

Cameron hadn't thought much about the man on the bus who didn't seem to do more than check his watch and read the paper. But after he glanced at Cameron - and only Cameron - for the fifth time with no glances at the bus routes, Cameron was pretty sure he was following Cameron.

He didn't look like a fellow private investigator. There was no camera bag or props. Just him and his paper. And very, very good posture.

Cameron got off at the next stop. He used the motion of checking his watch to check the reflection in the metal plate backing. Someone was following twenty feet behind. Defintately male.

Leading the man back to the house would bring him right to Bette. But walking around for too long would cause suspicion. He had to stall. And only one stalling technique came to mind. He grimaced, stepping into a little convenience store.

When he came back out with a pack of cigarettes, the man was still there. He was smoking his own cigarette, leaned up against the wall. Cameron could see the outline of the handgun through his coat. Shit.

"Need a light?" the man asked. Cameron shook his head, lighting up. He'd never smoked before. He wasn't sure that he wouldn't choke on the first drag. So he held the burning thing in his mouth and kept walking, slowly, like he was trying to walk and smoke and ponder life. He gripped the paper bag around the glass bottle tightly.

It was probably the worst plan he could've come up with to stall. But as he sipped the eight dollar water - label concealed by the paper bag - he was able to think things through.

So many things could tip this guy off to Cameron knowing that he was following him. And that could start a fight. Or a chase. Cameron wasn't a fighter. And he was a sprinter. There was no where close enough for him to run.

He passed the market near his house. Bette was coming out, wearing those thick gloves and carrying an armful of bags. She smiled.

"Cameron," she said. She noticed the bag and cigarettes and frowned. Cameron threw his arm around her shoulder like nothing was wrong.

"We have an admirer," Cameron said. And, true to her training, she looked for the threat, immediately alerting him.

"I've been made," he said. Bette snatched the box of cigarettes from Cameron. The next moment, she was throwing a glowing violet box at the man.

"Hit the deck!" she yelled. Cameron ran for cover. A moment later, there was an explosion.

  
Ana was the last to show up to the meeting. She arrived with a tall black woman who looked like she'd decided to dress up like a lilac crayon. A very well-dressed crayon.

"Everyone, this is my sister, Monique," Ana said. Monique stretched out a long arm across the table, shaking hands. "She knows about powers."

"What do you do?" Jimena asked.

"I don't have a power," Monique said. "But I do want to help you guys." Jimena looked to Brandy and Mike. Only Mike looked ruffled by her presence, but less as his paranoia about the government it seemed.

"Ana mentioned that you guys were thinking about starting up some sort of support group," Monique said. "So I thought I'd try to help if I can."

"How do we find others like us?" Ana asked. "I mean, if it's just us, it doesn't really feel like a support group. It feels like a small group meeting at a bar."

"I can see powers," Brandy said. "I can visually find people with abilities. We can let them know that we exist and that we're a group that exists for people to mix and talk and try to find solutions to issues with their powers."

"Seriously? You can just see that people have powers or not?" Monique asked.

"Yeah, man, that's new," Mike said. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," Brandy said. "I think that as I've been practicing with it, it's been allowing me to see more. I'm not sure what the colors or anything mean, but if I work at it, yeah."

"Hold on, hold on," Jimena said. "If one of you were to have come up to me and said 'hey, we have this support group for people with magic powers', I would've thought you were weirdos, even though I do have powers. How do we get people to listen to us?"

"I think this whole 'people have powers' thing is going to explode soon," Brandy said. "Weird stuff has been happening for months. My coeworkers are starting to notice. What about you guys? Don't you here weird rumors about levetating trucks and a man who can set himself on fire?"

Jimena had heard Tracy trying to convince someone about someone who had hand-eye coordination like none other. A person who had, until recently, been incredibly clumsy. As she looked around, it looked like everyone had their own story.

"I don't think we're gunna have to wait long before someone's on the news," Brandy said. "And then I think people will be able to swallow 'hey, we know you have powers' a little more easily."

"So where are we supposed to meet?" Mike asked.

"Utkin's closes on Mondays for cleaning. You can meet there in the evening when we're done," Monique said. "It'll just be you guys and me. We can close the curtains. Privacy from the public."

"Do we want to try to recruit a few people?" Brandy asked.

"I think we could try it," Ana said. "Mike, you okay with it?"

"What if someone who doesn't have powers tries to get in?" Mike asked. "Like, sister, you're okay. But I don't want anyone else. Maybe that'll limit the government agents."

"Sounds fair to me," Jimena said.

  
It was all the same speed.

Ana plastered herself to the wall behind herself, trying not to stand out. The cars around her all appeared to be moving both at normal speed and at the same speed of the walkers. Or maybe the walkers were sped up. It was hard to tell.

She didn't _think_ she was using her power. And Ana hadn't really noticed any changes in the ease with which she used her power to warm up. It had felt about normal.

The only difference between today and yesterday was that last night she'd dreamed of a strange dark landscape with burning sand battering her body. She'd been lost in it as it stretched on for an eternity, yet somehow only being only the space she stood in.

The sight of seeing a car that was moving at about thirty miles an hour and it moving at the same pace of a casual walker while still making it to the end of the street before the walker evoked the same sort of feeling.

 _I'm going to be late_ , she thought. It struck her from nowhere. She checked her phone. Less than a minute. She stuffed her phone in her back pocket and took off, lighting trailing behind her.

  
"Cameron, you can pause the property dispute case," Greyson said. He handed over a package. It had a photograph of a homeless man and a set of fingerprints.

"We need identity verification," Greyson said. "I need you to figure out who he is and get his birth certificate or something."

"Why?" Cameron snorted. Greyson raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry...my girlfriend ditched me last night," Cameron said. "I didn't mean to snap."

"I'm sorry to hear about Bette," Greyson said. Of course he knew. How the hell did he know this? "I hope everything works out."

"Me too," Cameron mumbled. When the dust cleared, Cameron found himself alone behind a car. He'd checked the agent following him. The man had suffered a wound to his shoulder, and the blast had knocked him unconscious.

And Cameron found himself picking up the pieces once again.

  
Brandy tapped his fingers on his legs, wishing he'd changed clothes when he'd gone on break. Across from him, Patrick stared at the spot between their two plates. Brandy tried not to stare at the heartache that surrounded his brother.

"Everything okay at home?" Brandy asked, glutton for punishment.

"Yeah, I guess," Patrick said. "Mom's super excited about the prospect of you coming for Thanksgiving. Dad's okay..." Patrick trailed off, staring right at Brandy. It was the same expression he'd had during the incident in med school. The same face he'd worn when they'd gotten news of Aunt Nora and Uncle Mike being in an accident.

"I'm okay," Brandy said. He must look like absolute hell. "Well, not okay, but...I'm so much better, Pat. You have no idea how much better I am."

"Can you...talk about what happened?" Patrick asked.

"Not yet," Brandy said. "I'm hoping within the next few months I'll feel more ready to broach the topic. Maybe we can have a laugh about it at Christmas." He said it, but the lines in Patrick's face only deepened. The cloud of heartache mixed with worry.

"It's not med school all over again, I promise," Brandy said. "I'm not going to drown and then not try again. This is me getting up and trying again. I'm not going to-to put you guys through that again."

"What's going on?" Patrick asked.

"Shh, I'm having an epiphany," Brandy said. He'd always been sensitive to the aches and pains of his family. Their emotional troubles. Even as a child, pain fascinated him because he'd heard that it was the body's way of saying that something was wrong. It was what had lead him down the road to medicine.

He was sensitive to pain prior to getting his powers. Did that mean something? Was that how the powers were fathomed - by a reflection of personality? And, if it was, what did that say about Brandy? That he was a cynic who could only see the pain in the world?

"Epiphany?" Patrick asked. "Care to share with the rest of the class?"

"I may have made a breakthrough in...what I've been dealing with," Brandy said. "I'm sorry. I'm really not ready to talk about it. But...I'm really happy that you agreed to meet me."

"Of course I'd agree to meet you. You're my brother," Patrick said.

"I'm so sorry I've hurt you," Brandy said. The heartache fluttered and slowed in pulse. It seemed to deflate.

  
Ana stopped right in front of her room door. On the floor was the little pencil lead that she placed on the latch. Monique would've mentioned going into her room. Ana lifted the brass knuckles out of her duffel, sliding them on.

She opened her door. No one was on the left side of the room. She turned the corner, fists up.

The redhead held a gun level at Ana.

"You brought a knife to a gunfight," the woman said. Ana crossed the room, yanked the gun from the woman's hand, and was in her desk chair before the trigger could be pulled.

The woman gasped, looking between the door and Ana. Ana who was now pointing the gun at the woman. It was sort of hard with the knuckles on. And it wasn't like she knew how to use a gun anyway.

"I'm sorry, were you expecting me to let you shoot me?" Ana asked. The woman raised her hands. Her perfume was familiar. The same stuff that hung around Cameron now filled Ana's room.

"You're fast," she said, visibly shaken.

"Tell me, does Cameron know that you're going around, trying to kill his coworkers? Or were you waiting to tell him right before you killed him?" Ana asked. It was hard to believe that she was in the cross-hairs of a killer. Nothing that exciting ever happened in this part of town.

"Listen, I need you to tell him something for me," Bette said. "I need you to tell him that Big Red is leaving town. That's all I was going to tell you to do."

Ana weighed the gun. She tried flipping the safety switch on and off. The button didn't budge. She tried to pull the magazine out. On a closer inspection, she found that it was a fake. Ana tried to shoot the wall. The trigger clicked, but nothing happened.

"A fake gun to order me to tell Cameron something," Ana said. She tossed the metal toy onto her bed. "I find that a little weird. Who's chasing you? And remember that if you try to run, I can just catch you and throw you out the window before you say 'don't'."

"Someone who made me...sort of like you," she said. "Not fast. Just...dangerous."

"Something special?" Ana asked. That sounded like super powers.

"Special, if you can call it that," she said, bitter. "But, yeah. Something like that." Ana motioned to her extra chair. The woman eased herself into it, not touching her gloved hands to the arm rests.

"Okay, I believe you," Ana said. "So, start from the beginning."


	5. Frame in Focus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A member of the group leaves. Everyone thinks about how they want to move forward in their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEW THING! I’m going to start putting a ‘---‘ every time I change days. Even as the person who wrote it, sometimes I can’t tell when one day stops and another begins.

The group had swelled since last week. They'd added six to their number. Jimena couldn't say that she'd expected a junkie and a child to show up. But there they were, part of the gang.

 

"I am Suram," one of the newcomers said. "I’m studying engineering at Central City University. I can manipulate the flow of thermal energy."

 

The child got to his feet. He plucked at his shirt, looking around the group like he thought he owned the place. He winked at Jimena. "I'm Daniel Shao. You can call me Dan. I can hear lies and see truth. And the truth is: you can't resist me." Jimena rolled her eyes. He was hardly lacking self-esteem.

 

"I'm Neil. I can sort of be invisible," one of the newcomers said. He kept tapping away at his phone.

 

"Janice. Howard. I can make steam." She sat on the edge of her chair, gripping her cup of coffee like it was the only thing keeping her there in that moment. She pushed a brown lock of hair behind her ear. "I actually live in Central City."

 

"Bette," the redhead said. "I explode stuff. This is John. He catches fire. Ana is working on containing his crazy."

 

"And that comes full circle," Brandy said, getting up. "We started this group to help other people with powers. Most support groups are precise in how they define ‘help’. They're dealing with a specific difficulty that creates similar issues. Our powers vary widely and have a potential to create very unique situations. Some of us can't turn our power off. Some of us struggle to control our power turning on and off. So this group is here to adapt to the members."

 

"Essentially, we're all resources to one another," Jimena explained. "I mean, no one has to bend over backwards, but we're all here to support one another. If I can help with something, I totally will."

 

"I can also be a resource," Ana said. "I'm getting better at controlling my power. But I'm really more of a personal trainer."

 

Bette had her hand up right away. Like Suram, she had gloves on. Unlike Suram, they were thick – probably canvas. "My power never shuts off. And I make things explode. Any help for that?"

 

"Why aren't your gloves ash?" Dan asked. "Your clothes? The food you eat?" His questions seemed to cut right through anything Bette had to retort. Jimena wondered if his quick insight was just observance or his power.

 

"It could be that you only make a certain substance explode," Suram suggested. "Something common that makes it seem like everything you touch. It could be your temperament or any number of biological factors."

 

"How am I supposed to test that?" Bette asked. "Without drawing a crowd."

 

"At the University, we have a controlled detonation chamber," Suram said. "We have blast shields and thermographs. I can measure the rate and products of the combustion and suggest improvements." The conversation started to deteriorate as Dan turned to Janice and started flirting with her. Mike started asking Brandy about their latest smoothie concoction.

 

"You okay?" Neil asked. Jimena jumped. She had been lost in her own thoughts so deep she hadn't even seen him switch seats.

 

"I didn't see you there," Jimena chuckled.

 

"Most people don't," Neil said. Jimena tapped on her chair with her nails. She could feel her hair curling.

 

"Do you think you're going to be here for a while?" she asked. "Like, with this group?"

 

"Probably," Neil said. "Why?"

 

"Can you watch out for Mike?" she asked. "Make sure he's drinking his smoothies or whatever? I know you don't know him, but could you just keep an eye on him?"

 

Neil leaned in closer, lowering his voice. "We just started this whole meeting thing, and you're talking like you're leaving."

 

"I'm taking a job opportunity at work," Jimena said quietly. "I'll be gone for at least six months. But if things go well, I won't be back."

 

"I'll try to keep an eye on him," Neil said. He pulled out his phone, tapping away.

 

\---

 

Brandy kept replaying last night in his mind. It had gone a ton better than expected. Everyone he'd invited had showed up - and even Ana had people who came.

 

There hadn't been any outright clashes of personality. Or explosions from Bette or John. Mike had only accidentally phased twice - the rest had been him trying to demonstrate the extent of his powers. Janice got some ideas from Suram and Ana on how to keep herself from turning liquids around her to vapor.

 

Even with all the good he'd been doing with his power, this somehow felt...extra rewarding. Buttercream icing on the cake. He wasn't about to quit his day job to assist people with superpowers, but he definitely wasn't quitting.

 

Now he had ideas for raising money to buy different materials for Mike to test - see if there was something he couldn't phase through. Or cameras to see how invisible Neil could become. Maybe find something to help Bette. Talk to Monique again about getting those pills for John.

 

 

Ana tossed the manila envelope onto Cameron's desk as she went to her own. On top was a pack of Big Red gum. This was what he went for first. He started with the only piece that had been unwrapped and rewrapped. He slipped the cinnamon gum into his mouth and read the writing on the inside.

 

_Cameron, I'm safe. Eiling's men haven't found me, and I don't think they're going to. Don't ask Ana where I am. I'll come to you as soon as it's safe. Love, Bette._

 

It was the first contact he'd had with Bette since the explosion at the grocery store. She was okay. Bette was okay. He blinked away the watery feeling in his eyes.

 

"You okay?" Greyson asked. Cameron crumpled the wrapper up and stuffed it in his pocket.

 

"Yeah, it's just...cinnamon," Cameron sniffed. He went for the envelope. It was the second run of John Doe's prints. And the same results as the last run.

 

John Doe had two sets of prints on his two hands. Six of his fingers had prints that matched one Dr. Martin Stein, a research professor. He'd been missing for almost a year. The other four prints matched Ronnie Raymond. He'd been an engineer for Star Labs until the explosion last year had killed him.

 

Cameron didn't see how it was possible for that to happen - even identical twins didn't have the same prints. He couldn't compare John Doe's DNA to either man until he got a sample. He'd have to get that straight from a home. And talking to a widow - or fiancée - could shed some light on if one of them knew John. Or could be related.

 

Clarissa Stein was still looking for her husband. She still had hope for him, unlike a former fiancée who'd been looking forward to walking down the aisle. Clarissa was the best bet.

 

 

For all her curiosity, Monique was not the snooper of the house. She hadn't been since she was a child. Ana had long ago taken up that role - being able to pull up random knowledge about everyone at a moment's notice.

 

Monique hadn't intended to snoop. She wanted to, but she hadn't had any plans. But she found herself glancing over the errant page in the apartment kitchen. It was a lease, something Monique was unfamiliar with. Elena and Roman had bought the building years ago. It was half filled out in Ana's relatively legible scrawl.

 

She was moving out. When was that a thing for Ana? Why was she moving out? They were all each other had. It was way cheaper to live here than to move out. She could walk to work.

 

Monique left the lease on the kitchen counter. She grabbed the orders she'd accidentally taken upstairs last night and brought them back down to the office. Even as she tracked the suppliers, she found her heart wasn't in it.

 

Ana was the only real family Monique had. The only family that mattered. It felt like if she left, that there wouldn't be a family left. If there wasn't any familial warmth in the apartment above the restaurant, Monique wasn't sure she wanted to run Utkin’s. It wasn't that she didn't Utkin's around. It was that she didn't want to run a restaurant. It was just that if she had a choice, she wanted to have a business of her own.

 

But of course Ana hadn't told Monique. She hadn't planned ahead enough to do more than get an application form. She hadn't considered the actions of her consequences. Because, really, when did Ana really have everything together?

 

 

Ana held the camera up. This guy tended to show up about now. And he tended to move from Central City towards Keystone when he rounded this curve. So Ana kept her eyes peeled towards Central City, occasionally glancing to see if he was coming from Keystone.

 

She saw him as he came from Central City. Ana turned, electricity of her own crackling up her arm as she jammed the shutter button. In her sped-up perspective, the noise it made was warped and strange. It was like it was happening at normal pace, but also slowed down.

 

The Streak passed in front of her camera. He was in a red costume that wasn't catching on flame from his lightning. He had a bolt on his chest. Ana lost her grip on her power, and the Streak was gone. She sat there, heart pounding in her ears.

 

 _Damn, that's a cool suit_ , she thought. Ana would have the pictures to Iris within the hour.

 

 

"Thank you, Mrs. Stein," Cameron said. "I'm sorry about the short notice."

 

"Call me Clarissa," she said, sliding some tea over. "You said you might have a possible lead?"

 

"Not exactly," Cameron said. He set a picture of Ronnie Raymond down on the table. "Do you recognize this man?"

 

"No, should I?" Clarissa asked.

 

"And this is your husband?" Cameron asked, laying down a picture of Dr. Stein.

 

"That's Martin," Clarissa verified.

 

"Do you know this man?" Cameron asked, laying down a picture of John Doe. This one puzzled Clarissa. She picked it up, thoroughly confused.

 

"It's...Martin," she said. "When he was younger. But he also looks like that man." Clarissa motioned to Ronnie.

 

"But you've never seen him before?" Cameron pressed. "He's not a cousin or brother? He's never showed up at the house?" Clarissa shook her head.

 

"I sometimes feel like I'm being followed," Clarissa said. "But I haven't had any proof. And I haven't gotten any strange messages or anything." This couldn't be it. Cameron's gut said there was more here. A piece of the puzzle he didn't quite have.

 

"Your husband was a physicist," Cameron said slowly, trying to decide how to go with it. "Do you know what he was working on before he went missing?" It was a stupid TV thing to say. But he didn't really have anything else to say while he stalled.

 

Clarissa got up and shut the curtains. She stopped by the piano on her way back to the table. Cameron recognized it as a jammer right away. It was a model Greyson really liked. Clarissa turned it on, taking it to the table with her.

 

"Most of it was taken by an Army general," she said. "I can't let you take any, but I can let you look at what's left.... Do you think that you'll happen to find my husband?"

 

"I'd rather not get your hopes up, Mrs. Stein," Cameron said. “But if I catch a lead, I’ll give it to you and the police”

 

 

"You're doing a great job, Bette," Ana said softly. Bette was full-out sweating, touching her palms to a Frisbee. It didn't glow or anything. "Don't forget to breathe."

 

Bette inhaled through her nose. She sneezed; the Frisbee started glowing violet. Ana whipped it out of her hands, throwing it across the room. It exploded a second later.

 

"It's no use," Bette sighed.

 

"Bette, before you walked in here, the only thing that didn't explode on contact was your gloves. You can hold it back for thirty seconds now," Ana pointed out. "Brandy can't even shut his power off for a second. I'd say you've made progress."

 

"I strained every part of who I am," Bette said. "Just to touch a Frisbee for a few seconds. What if it never gets past that? What if it never gets easier? I can't enjoy touching someone if I'm worried about killing them. This isn't how I want my life to go."

 

Ana flopped on the mat. "Not mine either. I trained my whole life to be a gymnast. When I was twelve I wanted to be an Olympian, and I started seriously training for it."

 

"What happened?" Bette asked. Ana rolled up her pant leg. There were plenty of various scratches - almost imperceptible thanks to Monique's skin creams. Ana traced one that ran across the front of her leg, on top of where the bone lay.

 

"Before Olympic trials, another girl removed the padding so that when I landed on the other side of the vault, I landed on concrete. I broke my ankle and my leg. It was...pretty bad," Ana said. "I could've gotten back to where I was if I'd worked at it."

 

"Why didn't you?" Bette said.

 

"I'd been discovering other passions," Ana said. "I started helping out one of the kiddie classes, and I found out that I loved teaching those kids how to move their bodies so they could do the vault. I dropped gym and took photography that semester. When I was introduced to aikido…I was inspired.”

 

"I guess, what I'm trying to say is that, when you find yourself shattered because your goal was delayed, maybe try to do something else in the meantime," Ana said. "Still work towards your overall goal. But consider trying to do more."

 

Bette looked down at her hands. They were balled into fists, the knuckles white.

 

"You're going to do this, Bette," Ana said. She reached out, tentatively touching one hand. She held it tight for a moment. Then she let go. Her hand felt prickly, but it didn't glow.

 

 

Ana balked as soon as she met Monique's eyes.

 

"When were you going to tell me you were moving out?" Monique asked. Ana pulled the lease off the counter.

 

"You went through my room!" Ana exclaimed. "I never go through your stuff, Monique. Hell, I don't even go through the trash. Why the hell would you do this to me?"

 

"I didn't go through you room," Monique snapped. "When were you going to tell me? When you were all packed up and ready to go? Or maybe you were just going to leave an empty room for me to find. And what about the restaurant? What about the apartment? Did you even consider the consequences?"

 

"I wasn't going to tell you," Ana snarled. She was gone in an instantly gone in a blur of blue.

 

"I'm not done talking to you!" Monique yelled. Ana's music started playing on the other side of her door. "Maybe it's time for you to move out, then!" They were adults. It had to happen sometime.

 

\---

 

"I don't want to jump the gun, but I think it's going to work," Brandy said. "And think of everything we can do. I mean, if we can network-" Across the table, Jimena looked at her phone for the sixth time.

 

"Do you have a meeting?" Brandy asked. He’d wanted to meet yesterday about the power meeting, but there hadn’t been time. Now Jimena kept glancing at the door and the time.

 

"No, no," Jimena said. "I just-continue."

 

"Sorry, I'm just...excited," Brandy said. If she didn't want to hear him talking about the powers meeting, she could've just said something.

 

"No, Brandy. I'm not going to be able to attend the meetings for a while," Jimena said. "I was promoted at work. I'm going to Milan for six months. Maybe longer."

 

"That's...great," Brandy said lamely. Seriously? That's all he could come up with? Then again, he thought he was going to be leading the group with Jimena's help.

 

"I'm finally going to Milan," Jimena gasped, holding her chest, like she was trying to keep her heart in. "I've waited for this since I first got into fashion. I never thought I'd get a job that _wasn't_ being a designer that I'd love so much."

 

"What about Mike?" Brandy asked. "He really needs you. He trusts you." Strong as Mike was, having episodes where you couldn't grab a hold of anything could be really upsetting. Jimena seemed like she tempered the possible upset.

 

"Neil is taking over my lease," Jimena said. "His roommate parties too much, and I have decent rent." Well, it was settled then. Brandy shuffled his hands around the table, straightening his fork and knife.

 

"I'm gunna live the dream," Jimena said. "You have a dream, too." Brandy stopped playing with the table setting.

 

"It's too late to go back to med school," Brandy said. "There's bills to pay. Besides, being a nurse suits me."

 

“Then maybe it’s time to figure out what your next adventure is,” Jimena said.

 

 

It was the one time Cameron wished he’d had Ana with him while investigating a person. His phone was only so good at taking pictures, and there had been a lot to take. On top of it, Cameron was having a hard time slogging through all the physics and chemistry.

 

“Cameron, do you have the Wilson history?” Greyson asked. Cameron picked up the folder, holding it out for his boss while he still read the paper Martin Stein had kept secret from the Army.

 

“What’s that for?” Greyson asked.

 

“John Doe’s identity,” Cameron said. “You have something else for me?”

 

“Do you want to hunt down a birth certificate? We’ve got the mother’s ID, so it shouldn’t be too hard,” Greyson said. Cameron shook his head. He’d much rather slog through a densely-written physics paper than go through the Keystone Courthouse again.

 

It took him just a minute longer to find the point of the paper. It wasn’t about cold fusion, as he’d thought. It was about transmutation.

 

 

Mike yanked again. Damn. His wrist had an axel going right through it, and he wasn’t phasing. It had seemed like a good idea. This particular make made it a pain in the ass to replace axels. But if someone had the power to phase their hand, they could get to the bolts above much, much more easily.

 

_I've been trying to feel the difference of when I'm fast and when I'm not._

 

Mike tried to imagine pulling his hand out of a sauna. The thick wet heat surrounding his hand. Now he was going to pull it out of the sauna into the cold-

 

His elbow slammed against the metal jack. And, as always, he forgot his size and hit his head on the undercarriage of the truck. He knelt beneath the truck, cradling his arm and cussing up a small storm. When Mike got to his feet, only one person was coming to his aid. Colton stopped short.

 

“You okay, man?” he asked.

 

“Just need some ice,” Mike grunted.

 

“Didn’t Steve order that taller jack yet?” Colton asked. He checked the side of the one Mike was using. Steve had promised to order and install a jack that would accommodate Mike’s height. But he hadn’t.

 

“Not yet,” Mike said. He walked into the little breakroom and pulled out an icepack. Colton followed, handing Mike a towel to wrap the pack in.

 

“Maybe we can get you a stool so you don’t have to stand,” Colton suggested. “You know, until the new jack comes in.”

 

“Yeah. Something like that,” Mike said. “I’m fine, man. You’ve got that Dart to fix.” Colton shrugged and left Mike alone.

 

No jack was coming. It wasn’t that Steve wasn’t willing or able to get a taller jack. It wasn’t because of race, sexual preference or really any other prejudice. It was just…Mike. Mike who went unnoticed. Mike who could shout at the top of his lungs, get in trouble, and somehow not be punished. He was just shoved to the side, forgotten.

 

 

Even with her training with Ana yesterday, Bette still kept detonating things. Bette held her hands close to herself, hoping no one would touch her. Not that it was hard. After her first day, Greg and Margie realized that they couldn't have her in their homeless colony. So they'd made a little home for her a way away - out of a car door, refrigerator siding, and moth-chewed cloths.

 

 _It’s not fair. Why can’t I control it?_ Bette lamented. Jimena and Neil could use theirs exactly as they wanted. Or, if she couldn’t control it, why couldn’t she have something like Mike or Brandy – relatively harmless to them and others.

 

She felt like all the blood had rushed out of her. Bette’s gloves started glowing. She bolted from her tiny home, stripping off her gloves. She tossed them into the retired sewer line that ran below them and closed the manhole. There was a faint popping. Smoke wafted out through the little holes.

 

"Caitsa," John said. Bette looked up. He held out a hand. She got up on her own. No use setting him on fire, too.

 

"You're lucky," Bette said.

 

"Firestorm," John said. Bette felt like she'd heard that before. She couldn't decide where it was from - a book or a videogame Cameron liked.

 

 

Ana found the photography book she'd been reading this morning on the counter. Right where the lease had supposedly been yesterday. So...she'd probably left it there somewhere in the midst of getting ready.

 

Which meant Monique hadn't snooped. Ana swiped the book off the counter. She took it to the bathroom. If she was going to apologize, she was going to have to find the right words.

 

The bathroom wasn't as she'd left it - relatively clean with open counters. All but a tiny space where Ana left her toothbrush and deodorant was covered in Monique's makeup, nail polish, and wigs. After the two of them had agreed that makeup and sweaty gym things belonged in respective rooms.

 

Thoughts of apology dried up.

 

"How many bottles of goop do you need?" Ana grumbled. She thought about using the bathroom for the master bedroom, but she hadn't gone in there since she woke up.

 

She held her breath for forty-five infinite seconds. When she let the air out, the desire to dump it all in the trash had waned enough for her to use the bathroom. She had to move some of the bottles that had been lined up in front of the sink, and she did so without letting anything fall off the edge.

 

Ana returned to her room. Apologies could wait another day.

 

\---

 

"Bette! We need your help!" Heath called. Bette got out of her makeshift bed, scrambling for the door. John was just outside the huddle of makeshift homes, literally on fire.

 

"John, it's me," Bette said. "It's Caitsa."

 

John stepped back, almost setting a shack made of cardboard on fire. Bette grabbed his flaming hands, pulling him away from the house.

 

"No burn," he said. "No burn Caitsa." Bette realized that she was holding a pair of flaming hands. And she felt almost nothing. It was like holding a slightly too-warm cup of coffee. Her hands weren't burning up, either.

 

"I'm, okay?" Bette said, holding up and unmarred hand. "I'm okay. Can you turn the fire off?"

 

"Firestorm," he said. The fire flickered and died. Bette released her hands. She hadn't even tried to hold her power back.

 

"Good job, hon," Veronica said. Heath and Gerard saluted her. She saluted back.

 

 

"Milan?" Ana asked. "Isn't that in New York?"

 

"It's in Italy," Jimena explained. "I won't be back for at least six months."

 

Ana shrugged. "You could've told me over the phone."

 

"But I couldn't have given you this," Jimena said. She handed over a large cloth bag. Ana took it, setting it beside herself. It wasn't clothes. Just a bunch of fabric.

 

"It's what I could get in terms of friction-proof cloth," Jimena said. "I was going to make you something, but I haven't had the time."

 

"How much do I owe you?" Ana asked, reaching for her wallet. Jimena waved the action off.

 

"It's the benefit of my job - I get to take excess samples home," she said. "Vendors send us product to show to clients. There was a lot."

 

"This is amazing," Ana said. She wondered if the other guy got his suit from Mercury Labs, too. Some of it was thick like leather. Others were more like the netting of gym shoes.

 

"Well, I am the best," Jimena said. "And...could I ask a favor from you?"

 

"Sure," Ana said. She'd do just about anything after she had nearly a suit for herself.

 

"Can you help Brandy look after Mike?" Jimena asked. "I know he's a big boy, and I don't think Brandy won't do it. It's just he phases so much even now. It really bothers him. And it's hard to let people know that you can't get out from beneath a car because your hand is stuck in a carbonator or something."

 

"I'll keep an eye on him," Ana said.

 

 

At Ethan’s suggestion, Brandy had picked up the HR book that was ‘absolutely life-changing’ and could ‘help you find purpose in life’. It had, in turn, prompted him to write about what he liked and disliked about working.

 

He liked to help people. But 'help' was so relative. Brandy had to say that he liked the process of getting to know people while he tried to solve whatever issue they had. A social puzzle rather than ‘I do good for the sake of doing good’. If Brandy was honest with himself, he’d given up on medical school. Now it was just a sore spot that he wanted to forget.

 

 _I liked the support group_ , he thought. He got to know people, and he’d been asked a few questions. Neil and Dan had taken up most of his time – neither of them could shut their power off even a little. Bette had asked him a few questions, but she kept asking about ‘rush of energy’, something that Bandy, Neil, and Dan had never experienced.

 

 _It would be helpful if we knew more about the powers themselves_ , Brandy thought. If he could see if it was in their DNA or how the DNA was effected, maybe he could help each person in a more specified manner. Even with access to the lab, if he kept having tests ran, someone would notice. And if there was something significant, Mike’s fear of the government might become a reality.

 

Brandy started a new page, writing down everything he knew about each member and their powers. He wrote himself last because he knew so much more about himself. He stopped at ‘noticed a few weeks after the particle accelerator explosion’.

 

What if Star Labs knew more about the explosion than Harrison Wells had told the press? Brandy scooped up the mess of papers and hauled it over to one of the public computers. He searched Star Labs, scanning their website for current projects.

 

The site had been pretty much cleared out. It had a bio for Dr. Wells, links to sites for government help in respect to the damage done, a .pdf of the Norris Commission’s findings, a small blurb about no residual danger, and some semblance of marketing for Star to do low-cost lab work.

 

Brandy had a plan in mind and person on the phone in less than a minute.

 

“Thank you for calling Star Labs,” a woman said. “This is Dr. Snow.”

 

"Ah, yes," Brandy said. "I saw on your site that you do private lab work. I was wondering if you could compare two DNA samples for me. I'd like to see if this is the same person."

 

"We do that," Dr. Snow said. "Would you like to be walked through the process?"

 

"Yes, please," Brandy said.

 

 

Bette held it back just a bit more. Just a little more.

 

“Ana,” Bette warned. Ana removed her hands. They were playing with fire - otherwise known as Bette’s power. It was only the second time they’d practiced.

 

“You’re at six minutes,” Ana said. She didn’t even check the time. “Think you can hold something again in a second?”

 

“Not yet,” Bette panted. Ana unwrapped a stick of red gum. She held the wrapper flat on the palm of her hand. Cameron’s scrawl was on it.

 

_I miss you, Bette. I want to be with you. Let me come be there. Love, Cameron_

 

Bette clutched herself hard.

 

“Fuck this!” Bette snarled. “I’m a grown-ass woman! I’m a soldier! I’m going to be with Cameron even if it kills me! Eiling is _not_ taking Cameron from me.”

 

Bette picked up one of the ripped up toys from the garbage pile. She held it close. It wasn’t going to explode this time or it would kill her. Her heart hammered in her chest. Ana watched closely, occasionally having Bette uncurl a little to see if the eyeless rabbit was glowing. Bette felt the power leave her and pulled back. Ana whipped it out of Bette’s arms, throwing it into the dumpster and holding the makeshift metal lid down. There was a small explosion and smoke started coming out the sides.

 

“You had that for fifteen minutes,” Ana said. Bette put a hand to her mouth.

 

“Do you think it would be safe to practice with Suram?” Bette asked.

 

“Maybe,” Ana said. “We can talk to him on Monday. I think what’s more important right now is figuring out how you did that.”

 

“I don’t know,” Bette chuckled. “I guess…I must’ve been so focused on Cameron that I couldn’t be angry at Eiling. I’m going to be with Cameron.”

 

“I want you to commit that to memory,” Ana said. “Let’s do it again, see if you can do it twice.” Bette did it three more times, each time getting about fifteen blast-free minutes.

 

“I think I’m good for today,” Bette said, panting. She felt a little worn out from it all.

 

“Did you want to try one more time? See if you can write something down?” Ana asked. She held out a stick of gum that looked like it hadn’t ever been unwrapped.

 

 

Monique met Ana on the stairs leading up to the apartment. Her sister smelled of burned plastic and garbage.

 

“Sorry,” Ana grunted. “The door’s stuck again.” She pushed against the door one more time, forcing it open with a squeal.

 

“Listen, we need to talk,” Ana said. She motioned to the kitchen island. Monique eased herself onto one of the too-short stools. Ana joined her, dumping her duffel bag to the side.

 

“I’m sorry for accusing you of going through my stuff,” Ana said. “I know you would’ve called or something if you had to go into my room. It wasn’t right to vent my frustrations at you.” Monique kept her arms folded. There was a ‘but’ coming. She could feel it.

 

“Ever since I woke up from my coma, I’ve felt really stuck in the past,” Ana said. “And I didn’t know how to move forward. So I explored my options to see if something felt right.”

 

“So?” Monique pressed. “Are you moving out?”

 

“No, but I do need a change,” Ana said. “I need something different so I can focus on where I want my life to go. I’m applying to personal trainer jobs, but I don’t even know if I want that any more. I carry around a camera, but let’s be honest. I’m never going to use it for anything but cheating spouses and high school seniors.”

 

“What sort of change did you have in mind?” Monique asked. That they both move? As much as she’d wanted it in her teenage years, Monique didn’t want to leave the apartment. At least Ana was thinking through these things more than it had appeared.

 

“I was thinking we could…move rooms,” Ana suggested. “How would you feel about me taking the master bedroom?”

 

Monique’s reluctance had nothing to do with Ana getting the bigger closet and a private bathroom. When their father had died, no one had touched any of his things. And when their mother had died, Monique hadn’t gone into that room at all.

 

“We’d have to clean it out,” Monique said. “Probably give a lot of it away.”

 

“Did you want to move in there? I mean, there’s a lot more room for a king than in your room. And you’d get your own bathroom,” Ana said, shrugging. “It makes more sense, really.”

 

 _You’re scared_ , Monique thought. Ana didn’t want to go in there, either. But it did make sense. Ana just wanted a change. And if there was an opportunity to switch rooms, Monique’s needs fit best with the master bedroom.

 

“Let me think about it,” Monique said. “But…let’s just clean up that room for now. Think about it.”

 

“Sure, sure,” Ana said.

 

“What do you think about me changing Utkin’s?” Monique asked.

 

“It’s your store,” Ana said. Maybe Ana didn’t have a lot of sentimental value in Utkin’s. And whether she realized or not, she owned a portion of the store. It was hardly a controlling portion.

 

“I started working full time when Mom got sick. And that was fine,” Monique said. “But now that you’re better and Mom’s not here, I don’t think I want to run Utkin’s anymore. At least, if it has to stay the same, then I want you to be my partner.”

 

“Oh, yeah,” Ana said, probably remembering her partial ownership. “Well, I could sell you my share if you want. Or you can just do whatever you want. Maybe you could convert what you have into a café. Maybe you can sell some locally made knick knacks while you’re at it.”

 

“Yeah,” Monique said. They could trade in half the prep space and the grill for cappuccino machines and various coffee makers. Cafes probably sold more baked goods than steaks. A mental list of all the changes she would have to make started manifesting.

 

“Are we good?” Ana asked.

 

“Yeah,” Monique sighed. It was sort of a relief to know that she had free reign over the store. Full control.

 

\---

 

The whine of turbines filled the air. Mike kept his ball cap low over his face. He knew it looked suspicious, but he didn’t want to be too cautious. He didn’t want to go missing in the middle of the night.

 

“Thanks for driving me,” Jimena said, taking her bags from him. “I know it’s early.”

 

“Yeah, well, you’ve helped me out a lot,” Mike said, shrugging. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do if someone else moved into her apartment. They were going to get a huge surprise when he dropped in on them.

 

“That’s why I convinced Neil to pick up my lease,” Jimena said. “And I asked Brandy and Ana to look after you. I know you’re a big boy and everything. It’s just…you sort of fall through the cracks sometimes. I didn’t want that to happen again.” She threw her arms around him.

 

“You’re gunna be great, Mike,” she said.

 

“I will be,” he echoed. She wasn’t leaving him behind without people there. He wasn’t being pushed aside.

 

“Is that Ana?” Jimena asked. Mike let her go.

 

Ana hustled out of the airport, a skinny tall guy in tow. They piled into the back of a dark car. The car took off as fast as traffic allowed.

 

“She said she couldn’t come see me off,” Jimena pouted. “Maybe…that’s her boyfriend?”

 

“Sure,” Mike said. Or it was a tech guy because she was an undercover agent planning on turning them all in. Just a thought.


	6. Inelastic Collision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ana winds up in Moscow with the man in red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ana is NOT going to be in a relationship with Barry. Also, this is super Ana dense. I'm hoping the next chapter will be much less so.

Ana broke away.

 

She wasn't sure how long she'd been...meditating? Was that what it was called when one simply sat and experienced the presence of their own body? All she'd done was breathe in and out, felt the rhythm of her heart in her chest. It felt like she'd been doing it for days.

 

The energy that filled her when she was running was in her now, so huge and terrible that it could eat her alive. Ana didn’t retreat. Instead she sat, feeling it beat in time with her heart and flicker with her breath. It was as if she sat some distance from a forest fire, feeling the heat pouring off and watching the light as it consumed all in its path.

 

She checked the clock in the kitchen. It had only been about twenty minutes instead of four hours. Ana took a sip of her still-warm coffee. A young man rounded the corner and froze. He was midway through putting his shirt back on.

 

“Hi,” he said.

 

“Door is that way,” Ana said, pointing to the door. He took the hint and left immediately.

 

 _Geesh, she could’ve at least asked me if I wanted to go pick up guys_ , Ana thought as she got off the stool and went to her room. She knew full well why Monique hadn’t asked her, and that hurt more than not asking. Ana rifled through her dresser for her favorite shirt – the one that made her feel attractive.

 

It wasn’t there. Her favorite pants were gone, too. Which didn’t make any sense. She’d just done laundry. Ana went out to check the washer and dryer. They were both empty.

 

One of the perks and detriments to being sisters with someone of a different body type was that they couldn’t switch clothes. And Monique always asked before going into Ana’s room, anyway. Ana tromped back to her room and checked again. Gone. So was the emergency money from the back of her underwear drawer and the fabric she’d gotten from Jimena. One of her smaller duffels was missing.

 

Ana checked her window. The tape was still intact. So it hadn’t been a break in. And it wasn’t like things had been misplaced from this room while she and her sister were cleaning out the master bedroom. If anything, Ana had more to keep track of. Her phone rang. She picked up.

 

“Hello?” Ana asked. She went to her dresser. She’d just have to go with her usual.

 

“Hey, did you get your clothes?” a man asked. Ana fumbled with the ties on her sweats.

 

“Who is this?” she asked. He didn’t sound like anyone she knew. Was it someone from high school?

 

“Oh, this isn’t…Cait,” he said. “Sorry. I must’ve misdialed.” The man hung up abruptly. Ana shrugged and checked the time. Greyson was going to kill her.

 

 

“How do we know she’s missing?” Suram asked.

 

“I’ve been meeting with her every other day at minimum to help her control her powers,” Ana said. “She thought she was being followed again. I talked to her boyfriend yesterday. He hasn’t seen her, and I’ve been the one being the in-between for them.”

 

Everyone turned to Brandy for an answer.

 

“We should all lay low for a few days,” Brandy said. “Avoid using your powers unless absolutely necessary. We buddy up. Mike and Neil. Dan and myself. Janice and Suram. Ana will take John and act as a floating buddy. If you suspect something happened to your buddy, call her.” Brandy could already see flaws in the plan. John would have difficulty telling anyone he suspected that something was wrong.

 

“How would you guys feel if I included her boyfriend in all this?” Ana asked. “He’s my coworker. That’s how I found Bette.” Immediately, Janice and Neil looked away from Ana. ‘NO’ was written all over Mike’s face. Dan wasn’t there to vote, and he would be the only thing that would ferret out whether or not this guy was okay to work with.

 

“Okay, so no Cameron,” Ana said.

 

“Maybe if we knew him in a social setting,” Janice said. “But we don’t. I’m not ready to let any non-powered people in on this just yet.”

 

Brandy was extra glad that Dan wasn’t there. His test results hadn’t come back from Star Labs, but he was pretty sure that Dr. Snow was going to call him about his genes. He was pretty sure Dan would’ve seen that Brandy was hiding something. But he’d claimed to have a prior engagement. Probably a date at a mini golf course.

 

“If anyone hears from Bette, let us know,” Brandy said. “I’ll-” Dan burst into the back room of the restaurant. He had soot all over his face, and he reeked of smoke.

 

“Oh, this isn’t- Hey guys,” Dan said. So much for a prior engagement. “Bette’s in trouble.”

 

“Where?” Ana asked. She was already pulling on the bike pads Suram had suggested. She picked up a motorcycle helmet and tucked it under her arm.

 

“Central City Museum,” Dan said. He took Ana’s seat, panting. Ana was already gone.

 

“What happened?” Janice asked. She took some wet naps from her purse and started cleaning off Dan’s face.

 

“I’m so happy you’re worried about me, babe. It’s only a flesh wound,” Dan said, winking. “I was just helping a time traveler.”

 

 

Ana raced over the bridge to Bette’s aid when it hit. Heat poured into her. She was blinded for a second before being submerged in the dark, burning landscape from the weird dream some weeks ago. The one where she’d stood in eternity while being only in one spot all at the same time.

 

Only this time it was real. Very real. Her clothes were on fire. The sand battering her was cutting into her seared skin. She reached out towards the crystalline light behind her. She gripped her power tightly, pulling them out of the fire and-

 

-Someone twisted her arm. They were pulling at it. Ana wished she had a bite block.

 

The man in red – the same guy Iris West had wanted a photograph of – was pulling off a red backpack and was trying to apply first aid. Poorly. He didn’t even check to see if her neck was broken before pulling off her helmet.

 

“Let me guess,” she groaned. “You’ve never done emergency treatment before.” Without the helmet in the way, she could better see the Soviet propaganda on the ceiling.

 

“Yeah,” the man admitted. “Where are we?”

 

“Seriously?” Ana demanded. “I thought you were the one who did this.”

 

“I-I don’t know how we got here. Wherever ‘here’ is,” he said, glancing around.

 

“Probably Russia,” she said. “ _You_ ran into _me_.”

 

“Why are we in Russia?” he asked. Ana shrugged, winced at the pain along her side, and pointed to the ceiling.

 

“I’m not sure,” she snapped. “I was just running to help a friend when you cornered like shit and ran right into me. We were supposed to end up in the river, but instead, we’re in Russia. Care to elaborate how that happened?”

 

“I’m not sure,” the man admitted, looking like a lost puppy. “Maybe it wasn’t either of us. Maybe it was another meta-human or-or something that happened when we hit.”

 

“'Meta-human’?” Ana asked. It sounded like something from a comic book.

 

“Uh, people like us. People with powers,” he said. She nodded. Well, they couldn’t stay hidden forever.

 

“Let me start over,” the man said, holding out a hand to shake. “I’m Barry.”

 

She tossed her good hand into his. “Ana.”

 

“Okay, Ana, I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation for how we got here,” Barry said. “But for now, I have no idea how that happened. We need to get somewhere warm so we can figure out how to get back.” He packed the first aid kit back in his bag.

 

“I’ll have to carry you down the ladder,” he said, looking between the ladder and her. Ana started pawing through his backpack for a blanket. It was going to be cold out there.

 

“What’s that?” Ana asked, pulling at black fabric in the bag. She pulled it out all the way. It was a black suit made from some of the missing fabric Jimena had given her. She recognized the texture – it was her favorite. Ana started pulling on the pants.

 

“What are you doing?” Barry demanded.

 

“They’re my size, not yours,” Ana said. “Besides, I’ll freeze out there.” She pulled the pants right over her burned sweats, making it all bunched underneath. She pulled the jacket half-on and tied the arms into a sling. She got to her feet and pulled her helmet on.

 

“I’ll be able to hold onto you,” Ana said. She held out her hand for the backpack. Barry hesitated, but handed it over. She slung it over her good arm, then latched onto his back using her good arm and both legs.

 

When they were outside, Ana ran to keep warm. She stopped at a highway with Russian signs that indicated Moscow as less than ten miles away.

 

 

Ana flopped down on the queen in their room. “Have you ever broken an arm with your powers?”

 

“You have three more hours for a break like that,” Barry reported. Ana sighed. At least it wasn’t six weeks. “How long do we have until we have to leave?”

 

“Three or four days,” Ana said. “A week if we really, really have to. But we’ll have to ration carefully now.”

 

Barry picked up the bag off the bed and dumped the contents on the table. He picked up a neon yellow envelope and read it. His forehead creased deeply as he did.

 

“Everything okay?” Ana asked.

 

“How do you know Russian?” Barry asked. It seemed a little out of left field since she’d spoken it over three minutes ago.

 

“It’s my first language,” Ana got to her feet. “I was born here in Moscow.” She got up. Barry stuffed the letter in his pocket. Ana added her wallet to the table.

 

“Your phone won’t work here,” she said. “They use a different kind of service. Most people don’t get both kinds on American plans. I have a phone card if you have someone we can call for help.” The phone card was to help with the international calls she and Monique made to their aunt in Estonia and a distant cousin in St. Paul.

 

Barry picked up the passport from his bag. He asked, “I assume the card is in your wallet?”

 

Ana nodded. “The instructions are on the back,” Ana said. Barry took it over to the phone on the end table. He punched in the numbers.

 

“Silverfish,” Barry said. It wasn’t a trafficking code word she was familiar with. She kept an eye on him, gauging his body language. It was open, relaxed. He wasn’t even checking her to see if she was suspicious. Or to see if she was slipping out the bathroom window.

 

 _Okay, so maybe it’s not human trafficking. Or kidnapping_ , Ana relented. It wouldn’t make sense for some guy to save a bunch of people and take her to Moscow. What would he want with her, anyway? Ana couldn’t think of a single thing she could do that couldn’t be done by a thousand other people better than she could. Well, maybe running super fast.

 

“Dr. Wells, I have a more pressing situation,” Barry said. “I’m in Moscow. I have someone with me.  We need to get back to the states. Do you think you can get us a pair of tickets?” Barry paused for the reply. He glanced over to Ana who’d returned to sitting at the table.

 

“Do you think you can make a fake?” Barry asked. She had an idea of what he wanted to see. She pulled out her passport. “Nevermind. She has one, too.” Pause. “Sure. We’ll figure something out. Hey, if I got a webcam, do you think you could tell me if I set a bone right?”

 

Ana flexed her hand, hissing a little. Still very, very sore. Probably not a good idea.

 

“Yeah,” Barry said.

 

 

“You didn’t have to go alone,” Ana grouched. Barry had insisted she stay in the room after the first time they went out, she scraped up her bad arm. Whatever. At least he was fast enough to outrun a mugger.

 

“You’re welcome,” Barry said, depositing the bags of Big Belly Burger on the bed. He started in on the burgers. Ana went straight for the fries.

 

“Where did you get your suit?” Ana asked. It was killing her. She couldn’t find a really good tailor in Keystone or Central City. None that made the sort of suit she wanted, anyway.

 

“A friend made it for me,” Barry said.

 

“Your friend make one for me, too?” Ana asked, motioning to her suit. He’d thrown the bags of new clothes on top of it where it lay on a chair.

 

“I guess,” Barry said. Okay. He wasn’t going to just tell her. Maybe he would loosen up as they spent time together. Tell her how he got ahold of the fabric she’d kept in her room.

 

“So what do you do with your power?” Barry asked.

 

“I run,” Ana said. “I get to work on time. I get to appointments on time. I pick up stuff from the store for my sister when it’s late and we’re drunk.” She didn’t mention things like ‘help train my other meta-human friends’ or ‘trespass so I can take pictures of things for my job’.

 

“You haven’t thought about using it for anything else?” Barry pried.

 

“I punched out the moron who knocked over the same convenience store. Twice. Who robs the same convenience store? At the same time at night?” Ana said. Every time she thought of it, it sounded like the most idiotic thing. “He had powers, too. But I knew how to use mine better, I guess. At the time, anyway.”

 

“You ran into him again?” Barry asked. “What happened?”

 

“He robbed Keystone National,” Ana said. “When I went to stop him, he flattened me like a pancake.”

 

“Wait, you fought a guy in yellow and purple spandex?” Barry asked. “He has the power of gravity?”

 

“Yeah, that’s the one,” Ana said. Were there other people who had that power?

 

“Who was the guy who took him down?” Barry asked. “The big guy who was completely immune?” Ana shook her head. She wasn’t going to let Barry know about the group. With Bette missing and Cameron being allowed into the fold nixed, it probably wasn’t a good idea.

 

“Never met him,” she said. “I guess he banks at Keystone National, too.”

 

“Have you thought about being a superhero?” Barry asked. “Giving back to the community?” Ana set her burger down. Was that what this was about?

 

“Listen, Barry, it’s great that you go out there and fight crime. It really is. I bet muggers and rapists are scared stiff in Central City right now,” she said. “But I’m not like you. I have a job that has long, inconsistent hours. I don’t have my second job right now, so I can’t pull in any extra money. And I’m kind of helping out with a local therapy group. If I see a crime, of course I’ll step in. But I’m not going to go looking for trouble when I have a full time job and then some. If anything, I’m gunna help the homeless vets in my area.”

 

It was a slight stretch of the truth. But it was still truth. Powers didn’t solve all her problems and give her the free time to moonlight as a vigilante. Not like Barry seemed to think. Barry who seemed to have been the one to bring her here. Barry who had someone he could call to get last-minute plane tickets.

 

“While I’m thinking of it: how did we get here?” Ana asked.

 

“You wouldn’t believe me,” Barry said through a mouthful.

 

“Try me,” Ana said, folding her arms. Or, rather, laced her good arm through the crook of her other.

 

“I think we time traveled,” Barry said. “Not very far. Maybe a week, tops.”

 

“Time traveled. Like _Back to the Future_?” Ana asked. It was the first time travel movie she could think of.

 

“Yeah. Only there was no DeLorean,” Barry explained. “As far as I can tell, it probably happened when we collided. And you were probably in control. You were born here. Maybe you were what brought us to Moscow specifically.”

 

“Seriously? You’re going to feed me time travel,” Ana sighed. Probably not a diabolical mastermind. It was probably something that went wrong when the two of them collided. She turned her attention to the TV and a pair of medium fries.

 

“Well, maybe if you would tell me what happened, I would have a better idea of what actually happened,” Barry snapped. Ana turned on the sound. She didn’t want to deal with this until tomorrow.

 

\---

 

Ana pressed her face deeper into the warm smell of Old Spice and soap. Her mom was probably about to call them to brunch or something. Ana snuggled in a little deeper, hoping for a minute or two more. Troy threw his arm over her. An arm that was too thin for his arm regimen. She opened her eyes.

 

She carefully lifted Barry’s arm off her and slithered out from their unconscious embrace. Barry wasn’t Troy, and he was like a fiery furnace of death. Ana went to the window, embracing the cool of the room. She untied the splint. Her arm felt better for the most part. Just a little achy. She couldn’t feel her wrist.

 

Catching Monique’s latest score sneak out the door had just dredged up Troy. It was like a closet door that wouldn’t stay shut. She could slam it all she liked, once she turned her back, it would creak open. It hadn’t been like this for Monique and her first love. Aunt Valeria had gotten together with her boyfriend only four months after her divorce. Ana was still pining two and a half years later.

 

 _But then again, you’re a moron_ , Ana reminded herself. She checked her phone. It kept resetting to a week ago, and the time was Russian. Ana couldn’t remember if Moscow was nine or ten hours ahead. Either way, it was too early to call Monique.

 

Ana sat on the floor and started stretching. She was almost done when she noticed Barry staring at her.

 

“Could you teach me how to fight?” Barry asked. Ana snorted and pulled on one of the sweaters Barry had gotten.

 

“I’ll think about it,” she said. She grabbed the smaller coat and ripped the tags off.

 

“Where are you going?” Barry asked.

 

“Breakfast,” she said. “Then sightseeing.”

 

 

“Don’t know where to start?” Ana asked. She’d filled out the pages of her own experiences. He had insisted that, time travel or not, they still should record this so they could avoid it in the future. Maybe set up a proximity alarm in their suits or something.

 

“I don’t remember,” Barry said.

 

“What do you mean, you don’t remember?” Ana asked.

 

“I mean, I remember fighting with...someone. I was about to go prevent a robbery. And then I just sort of go blank,” Barry said. That couldn’t be right.

 

“Do you remember turning the corner?” Ana asked. “By the bridge?”

 

“It feels familiar,” Barry hedged.

 

“You don’t remember sticking to me? Or ending up in that weird desert place?” Ana asked. She grasped for the right words to describe what had happened. “When you hit me, you just sort of _stuck_. When we fell, there was a flash of light, and we were in this sort of dark…desert. The sand was absolutely scorching. And then I hit this light again, and the next thing I know, I’m waking up to you setting my arm.”

 

“Light’s not physical,” Barry retorted, going pale. “You can’t exactly hit it.”

 

“Well I did,” Ana said. “And you came with me.” Had she thought of anything in particular when they’d been tumbling in the blazing sand? Had she desired strongly to go to Moscow?

 

 

“It’s a lot to swallow,” a cop on screen said. Ana slid into the seat next to Barry. She handed over a coffee.

 

“I, too, call bullshit on time travel,” she said. She sipped her coffee.

 

“Joe, this is Ana. She’s the one I ran into,” Barry said. “There might be some connection between our collision and the time travelling.”

 

“Sounds…reasonable. And I didn’t say that I didn’t believe,” Joe said. “It’s not hard to believe if you also believe that there’s a man who exists who can run a mile in four seconds.” Well, he had her there. Ana couldn’t deny that she’d heard some really weird stuff. But just because the impossible was starting to happen didn’t mean that all impossible things were going to happen. Ana wasn’t going to wake up with c-cups and the face of a model.

 

“That makes a lot more sense,” Ana said. Onscreen, the man with glasses looked like he was looking at a monster. “Hey, what’s wrong with the nerd?”

 

“Wells, you okay?” Joe asked. Dr. Wells cleared his throat.

 

“Yes, yes,” Dr. Wells said. He cleared his throat. “Barry, you mentioned yesterday that you had a broken arm?” Ana held up her right arm.

 

“Well, it looks as good as your conditions allowed,” Dr. Wells said. “Ana, do you feel any residual pain?”

 

“No,” she said. “And I can’t feel my wrist.”

 

“There’s not much we can do about that for now,” Dr. Wells said. “You shouldn’t have to bear with it much longer. The tickets should be there tomorrow morning. The messenger will only deliver them to Barry in person.”

 

“Ten-four,” Barry said. To their right, an ancient bat was talking to someone about ‘American spies’. Ana resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Because spies would be out in the open speaking English.

 

“This is a reminder. The two of you need to avoid telling anyone,” Dr. Wells said. “When you arrive at the airport, come right to my car. No stopping. And don’t forget to log your experiences.” Barry and Ana held up filled pages.

 

“The lady next to us is getting weirded out,” Ana said. “We should probably wrap this up.” It would be just their luck. If anyone looked at their passports too closely, they’d see they didn’t have the stamps for getting into Russia.

 

“Be careful, Barry,” Joe said. The screen went dark.

 

\---

 

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” Barry asked. Ana was on her fourth flask of volka.

 

“Dramamine doesn’t work on me,” Ana said, focusing on not slurring her words. “Trust me, you’d rather have me drunk than sober on an airplane. I mean, why the hell do we have to fly again? Oh, yeah, cuz it’s Russia and cold as a witch’s tit outside and we can’t run on water. And that’s why I’m forced to travel in a pressurized death trap.”

 

“Not a fan of planes, I see,” Barry commented.

 

“I’m not a fan of _heights_ ,” Ana corrected. There was a difference. If planes could travel on land or sea as fast as they did in the air, she’d be all over them.

 

“You took a picture of me running around a tornado from the top of a building,” Barry pointed out. “There’s no way you weren’t up high.”

 

“Up high and a minimum of five feet from the edge at all times,” Ana said. She’d rested her camera against a heating duct. “If I’m more than three stories up, I’m not going near the edge. It would be just my luck.”

 

“Do you also avoid elevators?” Barry asked.

 

“I need the exercise anyway,” Ana said. Barry chuckled. “What? You’re not afraid of anything?”

 

“It’s not that,” Barry said. “It’s the excuse. I know how that feels, validating actions because you’re scared.”

 

“Let me guess…spiders? Snakes?” Ana asked.

 

“Spiders are actually really amazing for the environment,” Barry said. “So are snakes. I mean, I’m going to take them both pretty seriously if I see one I don’t recognize. But I’d also take one I knew to be poisonous pretty seriously.” Of course he was a nerd. But she'd guess that if she set a tarantula on his leg, he'd freak out a little.

 

“So what keeps you up at night?” Ana asked. He turned away. When he turned back, he grabbed the flask and downed the rest.

 

\---

 

Ana helped Barry into the backseat of the dark car. He immediately slumped against the far door.

 

“So you’re Dr. Wells,” Ana said. “Nice to meet you again, sir.” She shook his hand. It had taken her a while, but she knew where she’d seen him before.

 

“We’ve met before?” Dr. Wells asked, alarmed. She hadn’t acted like it on the Skype call.

 

“You used to come to Utkin’s all the time,” Ana said. “You were a regular at lunch. Every Thursday you got a soup, salad, and half sandwich with a coffee. I remember you because you tipped so well.”

 

“You waited on me?” Dr. Wells asked, disbelieving.

 

“Not every Thursday. Every now and again, though,” Ana said. “You wouldn’t recognize me. Monique wouldn’t let me serve if she couldn’t do my makeup. She’s…thorough.” It was Monique’s favorite excuse to put makeup on her big sister. And Ana always felt like she looked like a completely different person.

 

“Can we get going?” Barry asked. Dr. Wells shifted the car into gear. As they left, Ana saw Mike and Jimena. Jimena who was supposed to be in Italy for six months. Mike had dropped her off at the airport three days ago and had been suspicious of her ever since.

 

 _Oh my god_ , Ana realized. _I’m time traveling_.


	7. Stop and Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ana learns what her real powers are. Bette seeks revenge. Mike helps Neil move in, and he learns more about his own powers. Dan gets to be a badass and help a damsel in distress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's so Ana-heavy this chapter. I'm still trying to wrap up this arc. But, I also get to introduce the perspectives of some other characters, which I'm looking forward to exploring.

“So if we’re time travelling, does that mean I can prevent someone from stealing something of mine?” Ana asked. It made sense to her.

 

“Maybe,” Harrison hedged. “What did you have in mind?”

 

“Someone got into my house and stole a bunch of stuff,” Ana said. “As far as I can tell, it was just my stuff.” She hadn’t gotten to check if someone had gone through her parent’s stuff.

 

“Did you see them?” Harrison asked. Ana shook her head. “Then I’d say it’s probably safe to get it – on one condition. You must not be seen by yourself. You absolutely cannot touch yourself. No contact.”

 

Ana took off, back to her house. Monique and Past Ana were nowhere to be found. She slipped into her room, careful to remove the pencil lead from the doorway before heading in. She gathered up everything that had been missing and ran back to the house.

 

She’d no sooner gotten back than Barry flew backwards into a glass wall that held its own. Something in her arms was pushing her back. Ana let it go, and the bag of fabric landed by the door.

 

“What the hell?” Barry demanded, rubbing the back of his head. He seemed to be straining to push off more than a few inches from the wall. He was able to move sideways, away from the bag Ana had been carrying. “Ana?”

 

“Don’t ask me,” Ana said. “You guys are the scientists.”

 

“One of my theories of time travel states that time traveled versions of the same atom will resist coming into contact with each other,” Dr. Wells said. “Barry, take off the backpack and open it. Look for black fabric.”

 

“You mean Ana’s suit?” Barry asked. He walked up to Harrison and Ana. He didn’t have the backpack on.

 

“Looks like we’re going to have to make you a suit,” Harrison said. He removed his glasses to polish them on his shirt.

 

“Wait,” Ana realized. “Did I steal this stuff back from myself because you suggested it or because I thought it was stolen?”

 

“Don’t think about it too hard,” Harrison said. “I’m going to have to insist that you don’t talk to anyone but Joe and myself until we know more. Avoid people you know and places you normally go. This instance doesn’t prove that I’m right, but let’s not chance it. I’d rather not have a black hole in the middle of Central City.”

 

 

“So you didn’t see a void?” Harrison pressed.

 

“It was like a black desert,” Ana said. “There was all this…sand. There was a light like one of ours above us, and then there was crystalized light below. Sort of.”

 

“Crystalized light?” Harrison asked, finally looking at her to question her sanity.

 

“That’s what it looked like to me,” Ana said, holding up her hands. “We were only there a second before we hit the light. And the next thing I know, my arm is twisting back into place.”

 

Harrison looked away from her. Something was definitely up about him. It wasn’t just her imagination. He found her presence off-putting. It was that way before they met. Crap, did she catch him cheating on his wife?

 

“You mentioned something in your description of your powers,” Harrison said. “You said that ‘I see things move at the same speed even if they aren’t’. You don’t mean that you can see the future, correct?”

 

“That’s correct,” Ana said. “I see a car and a walker moving at the same speed. It’s kind of hard to explain.” She felt like she was back in school again.

 

“And you have to practice your power every day or you can’t use it properly,” Harrison verified.

 

“Yup,” Ana sighed. “Are we done?” Harrison scanned her pages as well as his.

 

“Almost. I-I need a favor from you,” he said. “It says here that you specialized with people who have disabilities.”

 

“I did,” Ana said. “Physical therapy and diagnosis are two different things, though.”

 

“I’m having some pain in my back,” Harrison said.

 

“Are you doing the exercises your therapist recommended?” Ana asked. Harrison looked a tweak sheepish.

 

“No,” he said.

 

“And there’s your problem, hot wheels. Those exercises aren’t just about helping you walk. They’re also about keeping your body healthy. If you’re not careful, you’re gunna get bedsores,” Ana said. “I’ll step on your back just this once. If you don’t do your exercises, then you need to go see a professional.”

 

 

The box slipped through his hands, crashing onto the stairs. Mike grabbed for the railing, finding that his hands just passed through the walls. A pair of hands steadied him.

 

“Dude, stop grabbing the breakables,” Neil growled. “Or stop helping.”

 

“Sorry,” Mike said. He found himself able to touch the wall again. He picked up the box. “I’ve been getting better, I swear.”

 

“You keep saying that,” Neil said. “But I need you to actually be better if you’re gunna be holding my plates.” Mike took the next few steps three at a time. He waited for Neil in front of Jimena’s old door.

 

When Neil opened the door, there was a fold-up chair in the foyer with a candle and a sparkly card that said ‘Welcome!’.

 

“It smells like a fairy tale threw up in here,” Neil said.

 

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Mike said. Neil was standing next to him one second, then appeared to melt into the wall the next.

 

“Dude, don’t do that,” Mike said. “It looks like the wall is eating you.”

 

“My house, my rules,” Neil called from the next room.

 

 

“So where are Caitlin and Cisco?” Ana asked. Barry gave her a gaping look like he couldn’t believe that she knew their names. “C’mon, it wasn’t that hard.” Cisco had his tools carefully labeled. Caitlin’s lab coat was hanging up, her nametag still attached.

 

“After we were done with the agreement, we went out to dinner,” Barry said.

 

“How did that go?” Dr. Wells asked.

 

“We agreed that we’ll do things my way until the new year,” Barry said. “We’ll try to…boil the city slowly. Drop serious hints of meta-humans. Get people used to the idea before we officially announce the existence of meta-humans. Whether we’re ready or not, we’ll announce the existence of metas on the first of the new year as well as hand over everyone I’ve captured and all the tools to contain and convict. And then the system will deal with them.”

 

They were capturing meta-humans. So there really was something to Bette going missing.

 

“What about meta-humans who cause trouble but don’t mean to?” Ana asked. “What would you do to someone who couldn’t control their abilities?”

 

“Probably contain them, but we’d work on helping them control their abilities,” Barry said. “Maybe figure out a way to neutralize their powers or something. I guess it would depend on the situation.” So maybe they hadn’t done anything to Bette. Maybe it was the people who were following her.

 

“How did we get powers?” Ana asked. “It was the particle accelerator, right?”

 

“It was,” Dr. Wells said. He brought up the simulation on the monitors. “We achieved the goal of a particle accelerator. But then the readings became unmeasurable. The explosion itself isn’t what gave meta-humans their powers. It was the dark matter, dark energy, tachyons, and x-elements that were released.”

 

“Sounds…scientific,” Ana said. She tried to commit as much of it to memory as possible.

 

“Do you know any other meta-humans?” Barry asked.

 

“I do,” Ana said. She hadn’t planned to tell them. But maybe Star could help them every now and again. Maybe be a lost and found if Bette got captured. “We don’t want to hurt anyone. We just want to deal with what happened to us. I’m volunteering for these tests – they aren’t.” She folded her arms across her chest.

 

“I think Star Labs can respect that, don’t you, Barry?” Dr. Wells asked.

 

“Yeah,” Barry said. “I mean, I’m only grabbing the meta-humans who are robbing banks and attempting murder. I don’t see why I should capture people who haven’t done anything.”

 

“Good,” Ana said. And she’d make sure it stayed that way.

 

\---

 

Neil opened the door. Mike had mentioned something about falling through the ceiling. He hadn’t mentioned that he fell halfway through buck ass naked. He went up to Mike’s apartment, letting himself in with the spare key.

 

“Mike?” Neil called.

 

“Dude, I’m in the hallway,” Mike said. He was there, pants around his chest.

 

“What do I do?” Neil asked.

 

“Go back downstairs and put something under my feet. The taller the better. Then come back up here,” Mike said. Neil fled the apartment. He grabbed two separate stools, setting one beneath each of Mike’s feet. Mike braced himself on them, pushing up a few inches.

 

Neil dashed back upstairs. Mike was in better spirits, trying to push himself up on his own. Neil put his hand under Mike’s pits, trying to pull him up. The two succeeded until Mike was solidly in his own apartment.

 

“I need to join a gym,” Mike panted, pulling on his pants.

 

“Dude, we have to get a handle on this. I mean, what happens if you fall into a sewer?” Neil asked.

 

“It doesn’t happen when I’m on the street,” Mike said. “I get my foot caught in the sidewalk sometimes.”

 

“Have you ever had more than just your foot go in?” Neil asked. An epiphany seemed to hit Mike.

 

“I’ve never had more than a foot or a hand go into cement,” Mike realized. He tromped over to his table by the door and wrote his little notebook. So that’s what he was putting in there.

 

 

“You didn’t have to come with me,” Harrison said. Ana picked up a tin of canned crab off the shelf.

 

“I thought I’d help you. Not be shellfish and all that,” Ana said, waving the tin at him. He snorted and looked away. It was probably the first time she’d seen him smile.

 

“So who do I look like?” Ana asked. Harrison chewed his lip for a second.

 

“This wasn’t the first time you went into the past,” Harrison said. “Not for me, anyway.”

 

“But I’ve only time traveled once,” Ana protested.

 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Harrison said, an edge in his voice. Ana pulled a bag of taco spices out of the grocery cart.

 

“You don’t want to taco ‘bout it?” Ana asked. He snorted, completely taking his hand off the wheelchair controls.

 

“Stop doing this. I’m nacho friend,” Harrison said, barely containing a smile. “Hey, can you get those olives? Top shelf, yellow label.”

 

“Olive these puns are making me hungry,” Ana laughed. She had to jump to get the olives.

 

“Damn you. That was my pun,” Harrison growled. Ana snickered and checked the list.

 

"Okay, we're going to have to go get dairy," she said. "Ready?"

 

"Lead the way," Harrison said, motioning for her to go first. She didn't, choosing to take up the whole aisle to stay in step with him, staying behind when people wanted to pass the two of them.

 

“I’m not trying to pry,” Ana said. “It’s just…I have the power of speed. How am I supposed to time travel?”

 

Harrison tossed a pale blue box between his hands. “Your power isn’t speed. You can manipulate the flow of time around you. And if you have enough energy gathered, you can jump through time.” He threw the blue box at her. It hit her pants before she caught it.

 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to tea your pants,” Harrison chuckled. Ana read the label. Sleepy time tea.

 

"Want to hear a dirty story about sleepy time tea?" he asked, as if to close off any avenue for her to ask about time travel.

 

“You know it,” Ana said. She’d let him have his secrets for now.

 

 

It couldn’t happen again. Even if it meant her own destruction, Eiling’s torture chamber was going to go up in smoke. Bette ran her hands over the bed where Dr. Hadley had poked around her intestines. The bed where Hadley had ignored her medical file and used anesthetic that Bette was known to waking up under.

 

The explosive violet ate at the cold metal, taking full hold. Bette was well out of the room by the time it blew. She mussed up her hair and joined the nurses getting the stragglers out of the building.

 

 

“Is there anything I can do?” Ana asked, draping herself over the counter. “I already cleaned the house. Twice.”

 

“You can butter the bread. Then spread the cheese on it,” Barry said, taking pity on her.

 

“Finally, work,” Ana said. “I’ve thought about your request.”

 

“You’ll teach me how to fight?” Barry asked.

 

“My only caveat is that you don’t bitch at me if you don’t keep with your program,” Ana said. She could bitch for hours about all the customers who didn’t have the follow-through and blamed Ana for it. “What exactly do you want to get out of learning how to fight? Skills? Exercise?”

 

“I want to be able to hold my own against other meta-humans,” Barry said. “Or at least have a better grasp of how to kick ass when the playing field is a little more level.”

 

“We could go at this a number of ways,” Ana said. “We could duke it out, and then I could pick the martial art I think you’d be best suited for. I could give you a run-through of all the styles I know, and then you can pick the one you like best.”

 

“What if I want to master them all?” Barry asked. He didn’t _look_ like a guy who’d ever mastered a sport.

 

“Learn, yes. Master, maybe,” Ana said. “Mastering a martial art takes a lifetime. I’ve only _mastered_ one, and I started when I was, like, six. The rest are hobbies.”

 

“So I learn two or three styles simultaneously,” Barry said. Yeah, he’d never mastered a sport before. Once she got him started, he was going to be sore for days.

 

“Why don’t we get your body used to fighting, period. Then we’ll talk about multiple styles and blending them,” Ana said. “Do I put anything else on this?” Barry shook an herb blend over the bread.

 

“Toss it in the oven,” he said. “What styles do you know?”

 

“I’m proficient in krav maga. I’ve studied aikido, weng chung, kickboxing, and judo,” Ana said. “I’m also a trained gymnast.”

 

“What are you, a Russian spy?” Barry asked, sounding way more impressed than he should sound.

 

“It’s less impressive than it sounds,” Ana said. “Krav maga was derived from aikido and judo. So it’s kind of being fluent in Spanish then picking up a bit of French and Italian. Besides, I’ll need to refresh my memory before I show you anything too fancy.”

 

\---

 

“You’re here,” Bette panted. Ana crossed her arms across a black suit, a distinct lack of humor in her eyes. She must’ve been motivated to get that fabric turned into a suit.

 

“You could’ve killed someone,” Ana said.

 

“I pulled the fire alarm before I did anything,” Bette said. “We don’t have time for this. Getting people out of there is what alerted Eiling. Vet Village isn’t safe with me around.”

 

“We have plenty of time to get away,” Ana said. “What the hell were you thinking?”

 

“I was thinking I’d stop Eiling from giving anyone powers,” Bette said. “He experimented on all of us without our permission. And now my life is ruined. All of you got powers you can live with.”

 

“Haven’t you been listening in group?” Ana asked. “None of us got experimented on. You’re the only one Eiling is after. And he’s not even the one who gave you powers. You already had powers before he got a hold of you.”

 

“That’s impossible,” Bette said.

 

“Listen,” Ana said. She squinted like she was trying to remember something. “There was a-a dark matter…wave that came out of the Star Labs…particle accelerator. The explosion last year released stuff that gave us our powers. Think about it. If Eiling was conducting an experiment, we should all have very similar powers. We should all have the same fire power as you. But we don’t. Our powers were an accident.”

 

“That doesn’t mean I was wrong,” Bette insisted. “Eiling still hurt me. And he’s not going to stop pursuing me so he can make more of me.”

 

Ana ducked with the sound of a gun. Ten gut-wrenching seconds later, Bette was vomiting into a trashcan. She didn’t recognize where they were.

 

“We need backup,” Ana sighed. “And I need someone who can let you know that I’m going to tell you the truth.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bette asked.

 

 

“Bette, my beautiful, what can I do for you?” Dan asked, leaning up against the alley wall.

 

“I need to know if you can tell if I’m telling you a fact or not,” Ana said. “Like, I know you can tell if I’m telling the truth as I believe it. But can you tell if what I believe is truth is a fact?”

 

“Sort of,” Dan said. “Go for it.” In truth, he saw that sort of thing. Speaking of, Ana’s simple facts aura had turned into a wild mess of John-level craziness.

 

“I got this suit from the future,” Ana said. She really believed what she said. It filled her voice. The crazy part was, it resonated with her aura. Or, rather, the suit’s aura.

 

“Keep going,” Dan said, hardly believing his own power.

 

“Tomorrow, I’m going to time travel into the past, like, three days? Well, it’s not me, it’s the other me. Past me. I time traveled the…traditional way to get to now,” Ana said. The truth fit pretty well with the mess around her.

 

“What the what?” Dan gasped. “Dude, Ana, you time traveled.”

 

“Seriously?” Bette asked, eying them like they were playing her.

 

“Seriously,” Dan confirmed. “I mean, maybe she didn’t time travel _exactly_ , but it’s a close enough fit to the truth. It’s kind of hard to tell what I’m looking at.” Everything was tangled and sort of sticky.

 

“What does this accomplish?” Bette asked.

 

“We don’t know how time travel works,” Ana said. “But we don’t want to fuck up. Which means that I need to avoid myself and the rest of the group.”

 

“So it’s just the three of us against who exactly?” Dan asked.

 

“The Army,” Bette said. Yup. That sucked. It would be nice to at least have Suram or John to back them up.

 

“Sweet,” Dan said. “So, a handsome secret agent and his two hot babe sidekicks. Where do we start?”

 

 

“It sounds legit to me,” Suram said. “I mean, most of what you _do_ phase through on accident isn’t that dense.” He checked the list once more.

 

“What about the hood of a car?” Mike pressed.

 

“Dense, but it’s also comparatively thin to a sidewalk or road,” Suram said. “Density and thickness could _definitely_ play a role in phasing. Don’t stop your diets and stuff, though. I’ll try to figure out a test where we can measure your accidental phasing.”

 

“Thanks, man,” Mike said.

 

“I just need a favor from you,” Suram said. “Can you take a look at my bike? I don’t need you to fix it. I just need to know what’s wrong with it.”

 

“I don’t do bikes, but if you bring it over to the shop, I’ll have Colton take a look at it,” Mike said. Suram held his hand out for a high-five. Mike went in for the five. Suram’s hand was literally ice cold.

 

“Ah, Suram,” Mike hissed, holding his hand.

 

“Oh, sorry,” he said, pulling on his gloves. “Hazard of my powers, I guess. Yesterday I burned a copy of my term paper on accident.”

 

“You use your powers on accident?” Mike asked. He’d pegged Suram as always having a firm grasp of his powers.

 

“Sometimes,” Suram shrugged. “I get tired or upset and just use them. It can be really frustrating.” He was in the same boat as Mike and – and everyone else. Just because Suram didn’t talk about his issues with his powers didn’t mean that he didn’t have them, too.

 

“Well, let me know if I can help,” Mike said, giving the kid a pat on the arm.

 

 

“Jeezus, this smells like ass,” Dan whined.

 

“Are we supposed to discipline him for cussing?” Bette asked.

 

“I’m not his mom,” Ana said. “Besides, it smells like ass in here.” Ana’s phone started ringing. She moved away.

 

Ana may have planned for her to lay low so Bette could sneak out of the city, but Bette had other plans. Plans that didn’t involve being stuck in a smelly warehouse all night. Eiling had a date with her bare hands, and she didn’t plan on letting him miss it.

 

“Who was that?” Dan asked.

 

“Just my sister,” Ana said.

 

“What did she want?” Bette asked. She’d take any excuse.

 

“Just to go out,” Ana said. She had this slightly disappointed look, like she’d really like to join them.

 

“Hey, go out,” Bette said. “My crappy life shouldn’t get in the way of yours. Besides, Dan can take care of me. Meta-humans take care of their own, right?” Dan nodded slowly, as if he was unsure. She hadn’t lied. Outright. Could he hear the hint of lie?

 

“Are you sure?” Ana asked.

 

“I swear I’m a sheepdog. I’ll make sure to bite anyone who hurts this flock,” Bette said.

 

 

Monique hugged Ana tight. No one paid the two of them much attention as they tried to get the bartender’s attention. The music thrummed through the sweaty air.

 

“It’s been too long since we did this,” Monique laughed, already tipsy. Ana’s tolerance was growing exponentially. No mild buzz for her.

 

“Well, for me it’s only been a couple months,” Ana said, she could see the man who’d crept out of Monique’s room in the corner, eyeing the two of them. “But, yeah.”

 

“I’m not going to abandon you,” Monique said, noticing the man looking her up and down.

 

“Duck?”

 

Ana cringed at the name. Elise Coleman, one of Ana’s old gymnastics buddies, had two beers in one hand and a martini in the other.

 

“Sorry, force of habit,” Elise said. “What are you doing here?” Ana started chatting her old friend up. Elise was training to be a paralegal. She still competed, but not to the degree she had in high school.

 

“You don’t compete at all? Not even karate?” Elise pressed.

 

“I don’t have the time,” Ana said. “Or the money. I don’t think my old sponsors would want me back. And-” Ana noticed Monique tapping the counter quietly and surveying the crowd.

 

“And I’ve kept you from the rest of your group,” Ana said. “You should drop those off.”

 

“Oh my god,” Elise gasped. “You’re so right. Brb!” She hustled into the crowd.

 

“I’m so sorry, Monique. I didn’t mean to abandon you like that,” Ana said.

 

“Hey, you never talk to your old gymnastics buddies any more. You barely talk to Bryce,” Monique said. “I may never see any of my old friends, but I still chat with them all the time.”

 

“Why don’t you go on and find Mr. Wandering Eyes,” Ana said. “And I’ll go catch up with Elise. That way I’m not abandoned, and you get to go on a hunt. Sounds like a win-win to me.”

 

Monique stuck out her lower lip as she thought about it. “Fine. But call me if you go anywhere but home.”

 

“You, too,” Ana said. Monique made her escape before Elise showed up.

 

“Where’s she off to?” Elise asked.

 

“Off to get what she came for,” Ana said.

 

“Do you want to join my group?” Elise asked. “We could use another girl. We’re a little guy-heavy tonight.”

 

“Sounds like my kind of group,” Ana said.

 

\---

 

Cameron hugged Bette. She froze for a second under his touch, but then she wormed right into his hold even deeper.

 

“Cameron, I’m leaving town,” she said, looking him right in the eye. She had a mission to accomplish. “But you’re still in danger. Tonight at seven, I want you to go to this address and talk to a man named Brandy. He and the others there can help you.”

 

“What are they going to do against Eiling that I can’t?” Cameron demanded.

 

“They have powers, like me. But different powers,” Bette said, detangling herself entirely. “Cameron, I need you to trust me. I’ll be back soon.”

 

“Wait, Bette,” Cameron said, grabbing her before she could get away. “Ana’s in trouble.”

 

 

Ana couldn’t figure out why her room was at an angle. Or why it was so grey.

 

“She’s awake,” someone said. There were some footsteps. A man blocked her view of her room. No. It wasn’t her room.

 

“Hello, princess,” the man asked. “Have a nice sleep?”

 

Ana lifted her head, fighting the spinning brain in her skull. She was in a warehouse. They had her zip tied in front of her. Why did that seem like a mistake?

 

“You have something we want,” the man said, pressing cold metal against her cheek. “You took pictures on your camera. Where is it?”

 

“Moscow?” Ana slurred. She’d been drugged, for sure, and she couldn’t find a way around the fog no matter how she tried. She leaned her head on the surface behind her and closed her eyes. That seemed to help the spinning. Why the hell was she talking about Russia?

 

“She’s still out of it,” the man said. “Call me when she’s more coherent.”

 

 

Dan ran his hands through his hair. Ana hadn’t called yet. And Bette still hadn’t returned. Not that he blamed her. This place was a complete dump. He couldn’t believe he’d come back and expected to find Bette there.

 

“Dan, I need your help,” Bette panted. “If I show you a grainy picture, do you think you can see what it really is?”

 

“Sure,” Dan said. Bette held up her phone. Ana’s unconscious form was being dragged into a van. The logo on the van was blurry. But Dan didn’t need his power to figure this one out. He knew the logo that stood right across the street from his house.

 

“That’s Lambertson Construction,” Dan said.

 

“Thanks,” Bette said, patting his arm. She booked it to the door. Dan had a hard time keeping up.

 

“Hey, beautiful, where are we going?” Dan asked.

 

“ _We_ are not going anywhere,” Bette snapped. “You need to get to Brandy and start calling the others. Warn them that someone might be trying to pick us off. General Wade Eiling, maybe.”

 

“They won’t keep her at the main office downtown,” Dan said. “Too public. They do construction in town in populated areas. And it’s the daytime, so they’re all easy places to be interrupted.”

 

“Can you get to the part where you tell me where we’re supposed to go?” Bette snapped.

 

“I thought _we_ weren’t going anywhere,” Dan smirked.

 

Bette glared at him. “Smartass.”

 

“Mr. Lambertson once told me that they rent warehouses on the east side,” Dan said. He started walking. Bette grabbed the back of his hoodie.

 

“Hey!” Dan whined.

 

“The bus stop is here, sartass,” Bette said.

 

 

Ana spat blood.

 

“This would be a lot easier if you just told us where it was,” the man said. He snatched at her hair. Ana stumbled back, keeping her hair out of reach. If she got out of this, she was getting a pixie cut. She didn’t care how much Monique whined about it.

 

“But then where’s the fun?” he asked. The other goons were converging on her. Ana couldn’t back away any more. She gauged her escape routes.

 

The explosion rocked the whole room. Ana was still unsteady and couldn’t quite grasp her powers. But she was clear enough to lunge into the man to her left. The One in Charge grabbed her. She was rotated into a choke hold.

 

The third man lay on the floor, shot. Bette and Dan weren’t far from his body. Bette held a gun.

 

“Set her down,” Bette growled.

 

“What’s keeping you from killing me when I do?” the man demanded. Dan laid a hand on Bette’s wrist, keeping her from retorting.

 

“Crime families are called that for a reason,” Dan said. “We’re families. We stick together. Kill her, and there won’t be anywhere you can run. There won’t be anywhere you can hide. The Triad will find you.” Dan’s voice never wavered. His eyes stayed true. Standing next to Bette, he looked like a crime boss’s son, training to take over the business.

 

Ana was thrust away. She tripped over the dead man and onto the concrete. Dan helped her up.

 

“Where did Bette go?” Ana asked. Dan started walking her to the gaping hole in the side of the building.

 

“After him,” Dan said. “Come _on_.”

 

 

Dan burst into the kitchen. Ana had said that the First Aid kit would be on the wall-

 

“Oh, this isn’t- Hey guys,” Dan said, realizing his gaffe. “Bette’s in trouble.”

 

“Where?” Ana asked, pulling on her pads. She was clean of any complex truths. Just a clear, still pool.

 

 “Central City Museum,” Dan lied, stealing her chair for just a second.

 

“What happened?” Janice asked. She took some wet naps from her purse and started cleaning off Dan’s face.

 

“I’m so happy you’re worried about me, babe. It’s only a flesh wound,” Dan said, winking. “I was just helping a time traveler.” Only Janice looked at him with some level of belief.

 

“This has been fun,” Dan said, getting to his feet. “Brandy, I need some help upstairs. We might need stitches.”

 

“Brandy?” A man with blond hair and a sour expression stood in the doorway, holding a sticky note. “Bette told me to come to you.”

 

“One at a time,” Brandy said. “Sounds like I need to get to a patient first.”

 

 

“So, powers, huh?” Mike said. “Got any?”

 

“No,” Cameron said. Not that he knew of, anyway.

 

“That was some story the kid fed us. Time travel. Getting powers from an explosion. Kidnapping,” Mike said. “I found yours a little more dangerous. What would General Eiling do if he knew about the rest of us?”

 

“Probably the same thing he did to Bette,” Cameron said. The older man did that old man breathing that meant ‘I was right’.

 

“Do you think we should get the police involved?” Brandy asked. “Get someone up there to question Ana?” Cameron was shaking his head before the second question could be asked.

 

“If Eiling catches wind that any of us were in the vicinity of Bette, he’ll come after us, too,” Cameron said. Not that he really intended on following his own advice. “Your buddy system seemed pretty good. Keep an eye on each other.”

 

“Is there anything we can do to help Bette?” Brandy asked.

 

“I’ll let you know,” Cameron said. These guys only had so many answers. But it was Star who would have the real ones.

 

 

Ana grabbed the remaining shirts, stuffing them into the duffle bag.

 

“Where were you today?” Harrison asked. He was lurking in the shadows of his own home like a thief that had come to rob it.

 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Ana snapped. She snapped the bedcovers, folding them up into broad squares. Harrison rolled almost noiselessly to her side. One hand on her arm stopped her cleaning frenzy. The pounding heart in her chest slowed.

 

“It’s okay to not be invincible,” Harrison said. “It’s okay to be weak. You may have powers, but you’re still human.” His words struck her right in the heart. She pulled her arm out from under his touch.

 

“Thanks for letting me crash here,” Ana said. She left him in her dust. She told herself that her eyes were wet from the burning dust.


	8. Impulse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike explores his power. Cameron goes after Bette. Monique considers if she should change her business. Dan takes some advice he got from Brandy. Ana strikes back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t mean for any more crossover.

Mike gingerly stepped onto the next plate. It started cracking under his weight, but he didn’t fall through. He wasn’t sure if he felt like the world’s first cyborg or a sideshow freak. He was in a unitard and had electrodes stuck all over his body. Suram had insisted it was all necessary. Necessary to have the electrodes making him itch like crazy?

 

“Keep going,” Suram encouraged. Mike moved his left foot to the next tile. His foot started to fall through it. He pulled up before his clothes phased too much. He skipped that tile, reaching for the one after it. This one didn’t let him slip through. He planted his weight on it.

 

Mike pulled his other foot off the last tile and onto the frame of the experiment. He hopped down, happy that it was over. He could feel the bruises forming from when he’d fallen.

 

“I’ll need some time to look over the data, but I’m seeing density, thickness, and homogeneity make a difference,” Suram said. “I’m not sure which ones matter more. But I can give you some suggestions for how to stop falling through your floor.”

 

“Like what?” Mike asked. He started ripping off the electrodes and tossing them into a pile.

 

“You need to put a sheet of metal between your mattress and box spring. Maybe even on your floor. Maybe talk to Jimena – see if she can get you some non-homogenous fabrics,” Suram said. “That could help with your clothes coming off every now and again.”

 

Mike snorted. “But I like it when I nearly get arrested for public indecency and get branded a sex offender.”

 

Jimena had just left, and now he had to bother her while she was learning all kinds of awesome fabric stuff. He considered the cosplay community he’d been involved with in the stone ages. Maybe someone would be willing to swap trade secrets.

 

“Right now I have no idea where your power comes from. I think I have an idea of how you’re doing it, but I don’t know what part of your body it’s originating,” Suram said. “How would you feel about me disguising your readouts as a videogame and sending them to a friend?”

 

“How do you mean?” Mike asked. “Like, pretend that I’m a character in a game?”

 

“Exactly,” Suram said. “I could tell him that the code generated a glitch, and I want him to look over the results and give me an idea of what part of the body it comes from.”

 

“What if he asks about the game later?” Mike pressed.

 

“I’ll show him my nearly complete videogame, _Retrograde_ ,” Suram said, tapping on his tablet. “See?” He turned the tablet around. A clear body with a pulsing nervous and circulatory system spun slowly. To the right of the figure was a bunch of medical information. There was attack, defense, and special abilities stats.

 

“You did this yourself?” Mike asked. This looked professional.

 

“Oh, god, no,” Suram said. “My friends and I have a videogame group. I mean, I’ve been the one who works on the character programming, but I didn’t do this alone. Leo’s the one who designs and executes a lot of the visual aspects.”

 

“Are you sure your friend will think of this as a videogame?” Mike asked, compelled by that little voice inside.

 

“Believe that a glitch happened in the game he knows I’ve been working on? The alternative is suspecting that there’s a real live person who can walk through walls,” Suram pointed out. “I mean, I can also send this to Brandy. But he won’t be able to tell me about your magnesium levels.”

 

Mike turned the idea around in his head, weighing it carefully.

 

“How do you think my power works?” Mike asked.

 

“Basically, your body wants to vibrate at the same frequency as the material around you. When you hit that frequency, you vibrate right through it. Your body can literally vibrate at different speeds in different places, allowing you to pass through multiple homogeneous layers. But if things aren’t homogeneous enough or it’s too dense, it’s harder for your body to get through it,” Suram said.  “Your body also seems to sense thickness somehow.”

 

“And you want to check my magnesium levels to see if I have any changes,” Mike concluded.

 

“Exactly,” Suram said.

 

“Hold off on your friend for now. Just have Brandy look at it for now,” Mike said. He wanted the circle to stay as small as possible. “Thanks for this.”

 

“No problem,” Suram said. “It was actually awesome to use this equipment. I’ve been hoping to use it on my midterm experiment for a while. Knowing how to use it before hand is really useful.”

 

 

Ana was much the same as she’d been last night. She kept her body posture on the defensive, holding herself like she was going to break apart.

 

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

 

“Fine,” Ana said tersely. She faced away from him, turning her camera over in her hands. She had a sludgy stormcloud whizzing around her head. Brandy was surprised it didn’t turn into a tornado. “Take the file.”

 

“File?” Brandy asked. He picked up the closest manila file. It had his name on it and the Star Labs logo.

 

“I took it when I was at Star the other day,” Ana said. “I thought you might want to keep the results hidden from them.”

 

“I sort of wanted Dr. Snow to look over the information,” Brandy said, flipping through it. The DNA results had strings highlighted. Dr. Snow had some minor notes in the margins. Brandy was negative for the most common degenerative eye diseases. “And give me feedback. Maybe tell me something new about my power.”

 

“Sorry,” Ana said, not really sounding sorry. She leaned into her picture-plastered wall and started flipping through the photos on her camera.

 

“Ana, did they rape you?” Brandy asked. There should be no beating around the bush. She hadn’t taken a shower. They could still get evidence off her. Ana shook her head.

 

“They just wanted pictures from my camera,” Ana said. “And they were willing to take it by force.” She shook her head, disgusted.

 

“Hey, there’s nothing you could’ve done,” Brandy said. “Bad people don’t follow the rules. They don’t fight fair.”

 

“Brandy, I’ve been learning krav maga since I was, like, six,” Ana said. “Normal people don’t know how to fight. Those guys were brawlers. I should’ve been able to drop them. But I couldn’t.”

 

“You had a date-rape drug in your system,” Brandy said. “You being unable to fight three guys because you’re recovering from a date-rape drug is more than understandable. It’s not even your fault that you were in a situation like that.” Ana stroked her camera, pensive.

 

“Listen, I think you need to tell the police,” Brandy said. “If you don’t, I swear to you, I will drag Dan and Bette to the police and make them report it.”

 

“I’ll get to it,” Ana said.

 

 

A half-used pack of Big Red sat on the counter. Cameron grabbed out the next piece to be chewed. The inside was completely empty. Like she hadn’t gotten the time to write anything. He checked the backdoor lock. She hadn’t broken in.

 

But Bette had made something explode. A wide scorch mark lay across the wall. Cameron ran back into the house. Star Labs was going to give him answers. Now.

 

 

Utkin’s was by and large just as her mother had left it. A few servers had come and gone. There were a few managers to help Monique run things. The food was still strictly Russian cuisine made as Elena Utkin had shown Monique. Even with Ana’s green light to do with it as she wanted, Monique clung to the way it was, the last piece of their mother.

 

But still that desire to change the restaurant burned in her. Day in and day out it was the same menu. The same routine. It was like wearing the same color day in and day out. Boring. Boring. Boring. If Monique was going to be in a situation that tied her to the food industry, she wanted to play with food. She wanted to make something her own. Make it more than just Utkin’s. Make it Monique’s.

 

A familiar face walked in. Mike glanced around the store, eyes settling on Monique.

 

“Have you seen my jacket?” he asked. “I think I left it here yesterday night.” Monique glanced into the lost and found. An enormous jacket was stuffed in there. She handed it over.

 

“Got anything good today?” Mike asked.

 

“Just the normal,” Monique sighed.

 

“You don’t sound happy about that,” Mike said. He peeked over the books Monique had spread out on the counter. “Trying to find the money to renovate?”

 

“I just…I want to create something that’s mine,” Monique said. “But that would mean sacrificing the store as it is.”

 

Mike leaned on the counter. “My uncle used to run a grocery store. It was a family business. But he was a cook at heart. He loved pizza so much that he wanted to run a pizza parlor. But he didn’t want to turn his back on the legacy that the family had given him.”

 

“So he turned the grocery store into a pizza parlor?” Monique asked.

 

“Not at first. But eventually it had a pizza parlor attached. He opened three more stand-alone restaurants. Maybe you’ve heard of his pizza? Cove City Pizza? The Best in the West?” Mike asked. Monique’s jaw dropped.

 

“Your uncle runs Cove City Pizza?” she asked. She’d been skeptical that it was a tourist trap until she’d tried some. They had nine different crusts, including her favorite – chewy. They had five different sauces and a million or so toppings.

 

“No, joke, hon. The only way you don’t make the legacy proud is if you don’t make your own legacy,” Mike said. “It’s a tall order. But I think you’ve got the height.” He gave her a little wink and shrugged into his jacket.

 

“See you around,” he said, heading out the door. Monique waved. A legacy of her own.

 

 

“What do we have here?” Eiling asked. Cameron spat blood onto the ground. “I thought you didn’t know where Bette was.”

 

“I don’t,” Cameron snarled. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t stop looking for her.” How dare he abuse his power. It was illegal for him to conduct military actions on American soil against private citizens.

 

Eiling smirked, motioning to his soldiers. Cameron was dragged away. Every time he tried to cry out for help, he got a smack in the face and a fist in the gut. He was cuffed and shoved into the back of a truck.

 

 

Mike loaded the sheet metal onto the top of his car, securing it with bungee cords.

 

“Sure you don’t need help?” Mrs. Overly-Helpful-and-Nosey asked again. She’d constantly pressed why he’d been buying it.

 

“I can manage,” Mike said. He got in his car, eager to escape the old bat who just wouldn’t stop following him. In his haste to get away, he almost missed the new mechanic shop. It was one of those specialty stores that only worked on nicer cars.

 

He missed the familiar clank of an older engine under his hands. The afternoons he would spend with his grandfather, making rust buckets into the smoothest rollers. The sweet peach ice tea his grandmother would bring out to them. She’d ask them how the work was, and his grandfather would say it was smooth even if Mike was causing trouble.

 

Mike rolled past it, admiring a sleek T-bird in the lot.

 

 

Liars. Liars everywhere. Disharmony resounded every time he opened his eyes. There was nowhere he could go that it didn’t follow him. What was that old saying? _Oh, what a tangled web we weave. When first we practice to deceive!_

 

It was true. The truth was complex, but lies were a choking mess no matter what.

 

Dan turned his notebook over in his hands. Ben had been lying all along about being friends. And the only way Dan had found out was because of some stupid, lame-ass powers.

 

 _If I had powers like John’s or Mike’s, I could actually be cool_ , Dan stewed. As it stood, everything about him was a lie, slowly choking him every time he spoke.

 

 

 _It’s not even your fault that you were in a situation like that._ Ana turned the words over in her head as she flipped through her albums, not really seeing anything.

 

It bothered her that she’d been so bad at fighting. She didn’t like being ‘rusty’.  It wasn’t like she could totally help it. She didn’t spar with someone every other day any more. But she could still go in and pick a fight with Eli for free.

 

Ana traced her old gymnastics photos. _You were only a hopeful. Not an Olympian. You might not have made it._

 

It was only a possibility, shattered by one Diane Crantz. She looked particularly smug next to Elise the week after the accident. The team had insisted on Ana joining them in the picture, cast and all. Ana flipped the page, disgusted by Diane’s smirk. Little did she know that the investigation team would confiscate her phone and see all her texts. They’d also find evidence that she’d been the one compromising Ana’s routines for years.

 

The next page of the team album had another picture of Diane and Elise. Ana flipped back a few pages. The two of them were in a lot of pictures together. They had been located close to each other in the locker room. Ana had been vaguely aware that they’d been somewhat close.

 

 _It’s not even your fault that you were in a situation like that._ No, no it wasn’t, was it.

 

\---

 

Mike opened his eyes, half expecting to be sticking out of his mattress. And he wasn’t wrong. When he pulled the bedclothes off him, most of his body was in the mattress. But he felt like he was laying on cold metal.

 

He pulled himself out of the pillow-top and checked between it and the box spring. The sheet metal was intact and hadn’t moved.

 

He went about his morning, careful to step on the sheet metal or tile. He slipped a little on the toilet, but only in through the plastic rim, so it wasn’t too terrible.

 

 

“I’ll ask you one last time,” Eiling said, turning Cameron’s face upwards. It took him one point five seconds to say that sentence. “Did you confirm if Bette was in Star Labs?” The second part took one second to say. A total of two point five seconds.

 

Cameron panted three breaths. Three more before Eiling stabbed him with the Taser wand. On cue, Eiling pressed the wand to Cameron’s chest. Even with his practice through the night, he still clenched up, making it worse. He focused on counting. One. Two. Three. Four-

 

-Cameron blinked. He’d blacked out. Eiling was still there. And Cameron was still clinging on to each and every lesson Bette had taught him about resisting torture. For some reason, he kept picturing stones in his pockets and in his kneecaps. There were spiderwebs on the edges of his vision.

 

“This is taking too long,” Eiling growled, slamming down the wand. He pulled out a phone, pointing the camera at Cameron. Cameron didn’t even have the strength to look away.

 

 _Don’t fall for his trap_ , Cameron prayed.

 

 

“What’s that?” Josh asked.

 

“Maybe a few changes for the store,” Monique said, tracing a new door into the back patio. If they could get a permit, they could knock the back wall out and have a space that better overlooked the river. Maybe she could even make the whole back corner glass so they could overlook a little of the ocean better.

 

“You want to get rid of pelmeni?” Josh asked, a little aghast. It was their best seller. Monique pulled her papers out of his view.

 

“I don’t know, Josh. It’s just some ideas I’m throwing around,” Monique snapped. She moved out to the back patio. It was getting cold enough that Monique considered going back inside to get a jacket. But she stubbornly stayed out there, sketching out ideas. The patio would only be popular for a little bit of the year.

 

While she was at it, she played with various setups involving a party room. She might have to sacrifice the view if that was the case. But it would be nice to be able to have a room away from regular diners to host a big party. Or to have the ‘meta-humans’ meet without being discovered.

 

Monique finished the various physical ideas she wanted to implement. She tapped the pencil on the page and shivered. It would’ve been about this cold when- She shook her head. She was different now. She tried to help people. Monique didn’t act anything like she did in high school.

 

If only that could turn back the clock and undo the hurt she’d caused.

 

 

“Ana,” Elise gasped, getting to her feet. She had her own office as a paralegal. Ana hadn’t worked with very many paralegals, but ones who’d only recently become paralegals didn’t usually get their own little office.

 

The color was drained from Elise’s face. She glanced at the door.

 

“Hey, Elise,” Ana said. “I was in the area and thought I’d drop in. Sometimes lawyers like to use PI’s to deliver lawsuits.”

 

“Yeah,” Elise said. “This is kind of a bad time, Ana.”

 

“You know, I was looking through my old photo albums, and I noticed that you spent a lot of time with Diane Crantz,” Ana said. “And it never crossed my mind that there might be someone else who was in on it. Until I started thinking about the other night. How I got slipped a date-rape drug. And I had to wonder ‘who had access to my drink’.”

 

Elise opened her mouth to scream. Ana was across the room in half a second, slamming Elise against the wall. She shoved a set of brass knuckles in Elise’s face.

 

“Tell me why you did it,” Ana demanded.

 

“Y-you won’t hurt me,” Elise said. Ana slammed her fist into the other woman’s gut. As Elise shrank into the pain, Ana held her mouth, muffling the sound.

 

“Let’s try that again. Why. Did. You. Drug. Me,” Ana snapped. She let go of Elise’s mouth.

 

“I didn’t,” Elise panted. Ana pulled her upright by her hair. Elise whimpered. “I put the drugs in, but I didn’t want to. They said my dad would go up on the transplant list if I did it.”

 

“Who?” Ana demanded.

 

“Nicole Lambertson,” Elise said. “Please, please don’t hurt me.” Ana let Elise go for now. She’d come back to reveal Elise’s involvement in her pain later. For now, it was time to drag down a certain former wife to Mr. Lambertson.

 

 

“Hello, beautiful, you must be the club president,” Dan said, sidling up to a pretty girl. She rolled her eyes and left him alone with a guy who looked like he was a grown man.

 

“I am,” the man said. “Dan, you can partner up with Julia. Do a piece on Mr. Peters leaving.” He pointed to a girl who had her hair in a messy bun and sweats. Dan cringed. She wasn’t very cute.

 

 _Remember, Dan, suave. Be charming_ , Dan reminded himself. He sat down next to the girl, leaning over towards her.

 

“Hi. I’m Dan,” he said, holding a hand out. “Looks like they paired me with the prettiest girl here.”

 

“Liar,” Julia said. “Have you ever met Mr. Peters before?” Dan dropped his hand. So much for trying to make a friendly connection.

 

“I don’t lie,” Dan said. “And I’ve met Mr. P. We’re super cool.”

 

“You’re not a liar and I’m not a mind reader,” Julia snapped, her words ringing false. The truths around her clashed. “Mr. Peters only teaches trig and calculus. You’re a freshman.”

 

“Asians are good with math,” Dan lied. He had to have someone hold his hand and wipe when it came to math. Julia turned to him, giving him a cold glare that asked ‘Really? You’re going there?’

 

“So, mind reader?” Dan asked.

 

“Yup,” she said. The truths around her harmonized with that one word.

 

“I’m Dan. I can discern truth,” Dan said, holding out his hand once again. Julia’s glare clouded. She ignored his hand, peering close to him.

 

“You’re not lying,” she said, leaning back.

 

“Okay, I lie a bit. But it’s all purely out of a lack of confidence in myself,” Dan said. “But maybe two weirdos like us can be friends?” Julia grabbed Dan’s hand, yanking him closer.

 

“How do you have powers?” she whispered.

 

“It’s a long story,” Dan said. “If you like, I could tell it to you over coffee.”

 

 

“Have you done work on old cars?” the grizzled old geezer asked, sliding an application over to Mike.

 

“I used to help my grandpa with old cars,” Mike said. “He’s the one who inspired me to be a mechanic.” He took the application, turning to leave.

 

“You fill it out here,” the old man growled. “And you have your interview now.” Mike hesitated. He wasn’t dressed for an interview. He was dressed for work, meaning his jeans and shirt were covered in oil, radiator fluid, and breakline fluid.

 

Mike filled out the application as quickly as he could without making his handwriting completely illegible. He turned it over to the old man.

 

“Come on, Mike,” he snapped. “Time’s a wastin’.” Mike was lead into the shop where a 1970 Chevy Corvette Stingray coupe sat. The interior had been redone in new leather.

 

“Help me fix the vacuum accessories and the job is yours,” the old man said. Mike looked between the car and the old man.

 

“That’s it?” Mike asked. As long as he had the parts, he could definitely fix this. From the looks of things, the car wasn’t in that bad of shape.

 

“You can either do the work or you can’t,” the old man said, leaving Mike alone with the car.

 

 

Eiling always was a cocky bastard. Letting Cameron out of his restraints so he and Bette could reunite. How did he know the two of them wouldn’t start swimming? Eiling didn’t have anyone in amphibious gear.

 

“I’m ready to give myself up,” Bette said. She wouldn’t take Cameron’s hands. She just pressed herself into him, their skin not touching.

 

“Oh, I highly doubt that,” Eiling said. “Think you can pull one over on me? These men aren’t pointing at you. They’re pointing at him. Stand down, soldier.” Bette pulled away, almost like she was giving up.

 

“Not because of me,” Cameron hissed. But Bette still faced Eiling.

 

“All around the world, the men and women of America are sacrificing their lives to defend this country,” Eiling said. “But they don’t have to. Because of you, they can live. Because of you, we can have victory.”

 

“I’ll I’ve ever wanted was to make the world a safer place,” Bette said quietly. “I guess this is the only way I’ll ever be able to.” She tossed violet orbs at the soldiers. They exploded on impact. Cameron looked away from the carnage and vomited.

 

Bette was going to kill Eiling right in front of him, and he couldn’t look away. A man in red showed up. The Streak was here. The Streak was…real. Tangible. Not just a myth that Iris West made up to get hits on her blog.

 

“What are you doing here?” Bette demanded.

 

“Being a soldier doesn't mean you're a murderer,” the Streak said. “Don't become one now.” Cameron would’ve contradicted the Streak if not for Eiling pointing a weapon at the two of them.

 

“No!” the Cameron screamed. Too late, the Streak and Bette crumpled. Cameron rushed to Bette’s side. “Bette. Bette, stay with me.” He ripped off his shirt and pressed it to the blood welling out.

 

“I’m so sorry,” the Streak said. “I didn’t see him.”

 

"It's...s'not your fault," Bette said. She was shivering. "G-glad you stopped me, Barry."

 

"We have to get you to Star," the Streak said, reaching under Bette. Cameron reluctantly let her go. Even as he lifted the most precious woman in the world, a rattle left her chest. Immediately, Barry lay her back down into Cameron’s arms and shook his head.

 

Gone. She was gone. The woman who’d seen a war-torn desert and still wanted to go back. To go back to stop the fighting. She said that one day she wanted to start more schools and hospitals, not just defend the ones that were already there.

 

"We have a problem," the Streak – Barry – announced. “No, Eiling killed her. She's glowing – she's gunna detonate.” Good. Let her detonate. Let her burn away that passionate anger one last time. Let her consume Cameron in it and sweep him away in a fiery blaze with her.

 

“The shot went through my side,” Barry said. He continued to talk meaningless things involving taking Bette away. Cameron removed Bette’s necklace and jacket. If there wasn’t going to be a grave, he wanted to at least have something to hold onto.

 

The necklace was one he’d given her when they’d first started going out. And she hadn’t stopped wearing it. The jacket was something she’d impulse bought one day and consistently never worn until she came back to his door with powers.

 

The Streak beckoned for Cameron to hand over Bette. He carried her away. Idly, Cameron thought of the Egyptians being carried on boats to the west where the afterlife supposedly lay.

 

 

“Powerful men have a way of avoiding consequences,” Dr. Wells said. He rolled over to Cameron. “Why did you come to Star?”

 

“I came…for a couple reasons,” Cameron said, trying to formulate a good excuse. A half-lie. “I found out how meta-humans were made. I wanted you to help Bette.”

 

“And the other reason?” Barry asked, still in his suit. Didn’t he realize that Bette had given his name away?

 

“I had to talk to Dr. Snow about Ronnie Raymond,” Cameron said. “I’m a private investigator for Greyston Investigations. There’s an unidentifiable individual who we believe may be related to Mr. Raymond. We were hoping she could help us.”

 

“Who’s this man?” Dr. Snow asked. Cameron went to one of the computers. He logged into the Greyson Investigation website and pulled up a picture of John Doe. Dr. Snow held her hand to her mouth.

 

“He could be Ronnie’s brother,” Caitlin gasped. “How did you catch on to him knowing Ronnie?”

 

“The fact that some of his fingerprints matched helped,” Cameron said. He pulled up a picture of Dr. Martin Stein. “Do you know if Ronnie had any connection to this man?”

 

“I can’t say that he did,” Caitlin said. “I’d be willing to help you get a sample of Ronnie’s DNA if you like.”

 

“That would be very helpful. Was Ronnie involved with something called ‘Project Firestorm’ or any transmutation studies?” Cameron asked.

 

“He wasn’t, but Dr. Stein asked me to review his research on Firestorm,” Dr. Wells added. “He was supposed to bring it the night of the particle accelerator turning on, but he never showed up.”

 

“He went missing that night,” Cameron said. “He hasn’t been seen or heard from since.”

 

“Hold on just a second, who told you that we call them meta-humans?” Cisco asked.

 

“A meta-human,” Cameron said.

 

“Ana told you,” Barry said. Cameron started. Of course. This was the man who had supposedly gone back in time with her. If Ana really did go fast as the others said, maybe the two of them together would cause a time travel event.

 

“We can have Dr. Snow run the comparison of this John Doe and Ronnie Raymond,” Dr. Wells said, not tearing his eyes off the screen. “No charge, of course.”

 

Cameron shrugged and logged off. “I’ll get it to you as soon as I can.” Cameron picked up the jacket. All he wanted to do was go home and shower. He wanted to go to bed so he could wake up from this nightmare.

 

 

Mrs. Lambertson leaned back in her chair. Ana tossed the bodyguard aside.

 

“You’ve got quite a bit of bite,” Mrs. Lambertson noted. She was younger than Ana had thought. The woman Ana had photographed had wrinkles and things. “I didn’t think you’d come after me.”

 

“I’m not a fan of being drugged,” Ana said. “I already handed the photos of your infidelity to your husband. Excuse me. Soon to be former husband.”

 

Mrs. Lambertson drained her champagne flute. “All you have to do is revoke their right to use them. It’s your intellectual property.”

 

“I’d rather just kick your ass,” Ana said. She rushed Mrs. Lambertson’s stuffed chair throne. Ana hadn’t taken more than a step before she was slammed into the floor.

 

“Thank you, Tom,” Mrs. Lambertson said. A man in a dark violet suit came out of the hotel bathroom.

 

“You can’t fight gravity, Ana,” Tom said, squatting near her. “You could when I was weak. But I’ve grown since you last saw me. And you’ve grown pathetic.”

 

Ana closed her eyes, focusing on the air she could get. Could she feel it? Time slowing down to a stop? Beyond that, the feeling of heat and dust in her eyes. She was almost there. All she had to do was reach out-

 

Suddenly, Ana was falling through the vehicle she and Barry had time traveled through. She grabbed at the crystal light, falling down the side of the very hotel she’d tracked Mrs. Lambertson to. She could see herself going into the lobby below.

 

 _Shitshitshitshit_ , Ana thought. Her vision was going blurry. She was going to die in slow motion going down the side of a building. If she opened her mouth, she wasn't sure what would come out. She hoped it was a scream. Maybe screaming as she plummeted to her death would ease this. The ground seemed to rush up at her all at once. Oh, it wasn't going to be a scream coming out of her mouth.

 

A new level of slowness captured the world. Ana hung in the air, time pressing down on her like Tom's power over gravity, keeping her there. Her panic dropped to a more moderate level. She could still move like this, enough to close her eyes and feign she was on the uneven bars. If she wanted to get out of this, she needed to get closer to the building. Ahem, the concrete mat.

 

When Ana loosened her grip on her power, she twisted, scraping the side of the building. She kept her eyes squinted as she ran against the side of the hotel, increasing her speed. She kept going, only slowing down when she was back in Keystone. Taking on Mrs. Lambertson was going to have to take more than knowledge of martial arts. She stopped near Greyson Investigations, panting. Tears filled her eyes.

 

Cameron was slumped against the wall, holding a familiar leather jacket. It had been an age since Ana had seen a man weep so openly. She was about to join him.

 

“Cameron, what happened?” Ana asked. “Where’s Bette?” Cameron wouldn’t look her in the eye.

 

“He killed her,” Cameron wept. “He killed Bette. And no one will ever know.”

 

 

A job. He’d just gone in on impulse. And now he’d just put in his two weeks’ notice with Steve. Reality was setting in. His powers were more under-control.

 

Maybe it was the celebratory shots he’d just had with Neil. Maybe it was because he felt like hot shit after today. There was no fear of falling into the center of the earth. The mild paranoia that he would get a coin stuck in his body was soothed by the tequila. Mike started playing with his powers. He would try to make his hand phase while keeping his arm solid.

 

Thirty minutes later, he had a sore arm and could make small slices of himself the width of his pinky phase while the rest of himself was solid. He picked up the book off his nightstand and opened it past all the input/output vitamin tables. He logged ‘thirty minutes of practicing powers’.

 

 

Ana left Cameron on the couch. Bette’s necklace was still wrapped around his hand. She took Bette’s jacket with her, not quite ready to let go of it yet. She was still falling off the hotel, choked by her own fear. If she hadn't slowed down to almost imperceptible movement, she would've died. Eiling had to be stopped. ‘Tom’ had to be stopped. Nicole Lambertson had to be stopped. Sitting in her father’s armchair and stewing wasn’t going to change anything.

 

 _Protect Pchelka, Myshka_ , Roman had said. They were his last words to her before his heart attack. Ana couldn’t let these people hurt Monique. And she couldn’t let them hurt the other meta-humans. Bette had referred to herself as a sheepdog that guarded her flock. Bette had died protecting her flock. And there were no more sheepdogs left. They'd have to do with Ana. And Ana would have to rise to the occasion.

 

Ana turned the light on in her room. She had heard of facing one’s demons, but this seemed a little extreme. The woman sitting on her bed was every bit ‘Ana Utkin’ as she was a complete stranger. Her hair was shock white, and her eyes were very nearly the same. She wore a tight black suit that appeared to be made out of a billion tiny black scales. There were larger pieces of armor on her joints.

 

“It’s about time you got here,” Other Ana said.

 

“Isn’t this that thing that virtually all time travel media tells you not to do?” Ana asked. Other Ana laughed and shook her head like Ana was the cutest thing. Other Ana didn't appear any older, but...it felt that way. Like she had lived longer even if she was the same age. Maybe experienced more than Ana had.

 

“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” Other Ana said. “Follow me if you don't want Bette Sans Souci's death to be in vain."


	9. Legacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ana learns about time travel from...herself? Monique deals with her past. The group starts to face an unpleasant reality and puts their trust in Ana. Neil and Mike make a deal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying a new format. I don’t want too much crossover, but since I’ve designed my world to have Keystone and Central City right on top of each other, events from one will influence the other a little.
> 
> I didn’t know that I liked to name my OFC’s J-names.

_Schism, near the Vanishing Point_

 

“Where are we going?” Ana asked. Maybe she should ask ‘when’.

            “We’re going to the Vanishing Point,” Other Ana said. “If time appears to flow like a river, one event following another in a chronological order, then where we are now – the Schism – is like the ocean. Time and space is happening all at once in a big overlapping mess. The Vanishing Point is the place where time as we normally experience it and the Schism meet in a single point.

            “You didn’t say that you weren’t my future self,” Ana said. “But you didn’t say that you were, either.”

            “Good catch,” Other Ana said. “I’m from a different fractal than you are. A fractal is like a timeline, but with some key differences. You were born Anastasia Lavrov. Due to some differences in fractals, I was born Marina Ananyiv. While we share many similarities, we’re not the same.”

            Marina’s hands tightened on the spaceships’ controls. Ana’s eyes tried to make sense of the darkness ahead. It looked like some kind of large debris was on the horizon.

            “What’s the difference between a fractal and a timeline?” Ana asked. The ship jerked left before tilting right.

            “It’s sort of hard to describe without touching on the multiverse,” Marina said. “As far as we’ve ever tested, a universe will either have a timeline system or a fractal system. A timeline system has one timeline active at any given moment. You can pretty easily change the timeline drastically one way but still change things back to the way they were later.”

            “As for fractal systems…they’re like river tributaries. Timelines that are all slightly different versions of the same world,” Marina continued. “Each one operates independently of the other. But their existences are all dependent on one another. You can, in theory, replicate a fractal that’s currently in existence or one that’s been destroyed. In practice, no one ever has.”

            “So you could have a fractal where the North lost against the South or the Axis Powers won against the Allies,” Ana said.

            “You can. And there have been,” Marina said. “I come from a fractal where Russia broke into the Soviet Union, Russia, and Siberia. Among other historical differences.”

            “Like what?” Ana asked. Marina didn’t answer.

            “As I was saying earlier, fractals’ existence is dependent on one another,” Marina said. “Recently, one was destroyed. The Time Masters were able to minimize the damage done to the others. Or that’s what we thought until we realized yours was decaying.”

            “If we act now, we can keep it from dying entirely,” Marina said. “At the Vanishing Point, we’re going to focus on training your powers.”

            “Don’t we have the same power?” Ana asked. “Can’t you do it?” Marina’s hands tightened on the spaceship’s controls until Ana was sure that Marina was going to break a knuckle.

            “Sometimes it helps to be able to be two places at once,” Marina murmured.

 

 

_Linearity, Keystone City a week later_

 

Shelby looked at Monique like she was crazy. Monique wondered if this had been a bad idea after all. It wasn’t like Shelby had any reason to forgive her.

            “Okay, that’s…fine,” Shelby said, shrugging. “It was high school.” She dismissed Monique by looking back down at her books.

            Monique shuffled away. She’d been horrible to a lot of girls in high school. Once she’d locked Shelby in the ball closet for an hour. She’d called her a fat bitch at lunch almost every week. Sure it had been four years ago, but that didn’t make it all better.

            It had been similar with Brittany, Madison, and Charlise. She kept getting either mild ‘I don’t care’ or a bland ‘you’re a terrible person who’s taking up my valuable time’.

            Maybe Monique was the only one who remembered that she’d set Madison up with a super-creepy guy for the WPA dance. Now that she looked back on it, she had no idea who that guy was. He could’ve really hurt Madison. Or the time she snuck into the girls’ locker room during gym and cut up all of Madison’s clothes. So Madison had to walk through school the rest of the day in her gym clothes without a bra.

            What about all the times she’d bitched out Charlise? She’d bullied Charlise all the time in class. Called her worthless. Openly asked her the most embarrassing questions she possibly could then mocking her no matter what the answer was.

            And Brittany – who was so happy with her girlfriend. Monique had outed her to the whole school even though the two of them were trying to keep it quiet. She had lead the charge of people calling her homophobic names. She’d even dumped a ton of icewater water over Brittany when it was getting cold, causing the other girl to get sick for three weeks.

            She hadn’t expected to be forgiven. But she couldn’t say she’d expected the moderate reaction she’d gotten. She’d half expected to have things thrown at her while she retreated. It didn’t feel right. And it didn’t ease the guilt, either. And the more she thought about it, the more she remembered all the terrible things she’d done.

 

 

“Good news,” Mike said, setting the laptop down. “Looks like we won’t be going every single week without Jimena.” The others gathered around the laptop. Janice found herself on the edge, next to Neil. The only person who completely ignored it was John. He just sat quietly in his chair, staring into space.

            “How is it in Italy?” Brandy asked.

            “Excellent!” Jimena gasped. “It’s so beautiful here! And I’m learning _so_ much. I didn’t even know how much more there was to learn. What’s going on over there? Who’s the new girl?”

            “I’m Julia,” the teenager said. “Mind-reader.”

            “Cool!” Jimena said. She lifted a few things with her hair. “I can manipulate my hair at will. These guys will take care of you, Julia.” Julia eyed Dan.

            “I’m sure they will,” she said coolly.

            “Hey, where’s Bette?” Jimena asked. Eyes dashed to Ana before back to the laptop.

            “Bette’s gone,” Ana said. “She exploded.” Jimena’s smile only faltered a little.

            “What did she blow up?” Jimena asked, not quite getting it. “No one was hurt, right?” She set down the pencils and things she’d been holding in her hair.

            “Bette was shot by the Army,” Ana said. “She was taken out to the bay where she detonated. The Army claimed it was a routine weapons test. General Eiling seems to be under the impression that she was the last of the meta-humans.” Jimena’s smile dropped to stunned silence.

            “I saw the test on the news…that was Bette?” Jimena asked. “She’s gone?”

            “She’s gone,” Ana confirmed.

            Janice couldn’t pretend that she’d been very close to Bette or that they’d been more than casual friends. They’d only met once a week for, what, three weeks? She saw Suram every day now, but they carpooled to Central City University. And he was a great insight into her powers. She’d definitely cry if he’d blown up. Still, even though Janice wasn’t a puddle of tears didn’t mean that losing Bette wasn’t sad and lonely.

            On screen, Jimena looked as though she were about to melt. She dabbed at her eyes with her long jet locks.

            “Well, that’s…horrifying,” Jimena said.

            The group started breaking up, as usual. Ana, Brandy, and Mike stayed with Jimena to console her and to tell her about Mike’s power breakthrough. Suram found his way over to Neil to discuss their latest videogame obsession.

            “So, you turn water to steam?” Julia asked. Janice was too caught up in her thoughts to flush and turn the room into a sauna.

            “Uh, yeah,” Janice said. “So, uh, reading minds must be pretty cool.” She flushed. Some of the coffee in her cup evaporated a little faster. Julia could’ve probably picked that out of her head. She could’ve waited a second longer to come up with a better question.

            “It’s not quite what I thought it would be like,” Julia said. “But, yeah, it’s pretty cool sometimes. Do you keep your coffee warm all the time?” Janice nodded.

            “I mean, it’s not really intentional,” she said. “I-I hold a cup of coffee because it’s the first thing to evaporate before my power spreads outward.” Prickles danced over her shoulders. It was her canary in the coalmine. Let her know before she killed someone else.

            “We need to address the obvious,” Ana said, calling the group to order. “It’s only a matter of time before General Eiling discovers that Bette’s not the only meta-human and comes after us. We need to prepare for this.”

            “If you haven’t noticed, we’ve lost our biggest gun,” Neil said. “Our second gun is insane. Suram’s power is more of a close-quarters thing. You’re really the only one who can defend us physically.” Janice tilted the coffee in her cup so that it would swirl around, relived not to be counted among the ‘guns’.

            “Welcome to the gun show,” Dan said, holding up his arms like a bodybuilder.

            “All of us can use our powers to defend the rest,” Ana said. “We just have to be creative about it. It’s not a matter of what power you have; it’s how you apply them. But that’s only part of what I’m getting at. What if we try to put legislation in place before the general public finds out about meta-humans? People will have to work to repeal the law.”

            “You want to tell the government we exist before the general public knows,” Mike said. “That sounds like a _great_ plan. And then, once we’re all done being lobotomized by the feds, we can go out for ice cream.”

            “I’m just making a suggestion that could really help us later. We’ll say that Eiling does get ahold of one of us,” Ana said. “Of course we’re going to go rescue them. And when we get proof of the kidnapping, we take Eiling down.”

            “Or we take him down now and never have to worry about it again,” Mike retorted.

            “Hold on, hold on,” Brandy said. “We can’t just attack an Army general. But. We can’t just alert the government to the presence of meta-humans. I think we need to discuss this more.”

            Janice clutched her cup tighter. Fights. Maybe she should heat home before she vaporized all the water in the room.

 

 

“That went terribly,” Julia said. “And it’s not like we can do anything. We can’t vote and we can’t fight.” The bus home was particularly packed tonight. Dan crouched a little over Julia so she wouldn’t get felt up by the weirdo who had his eyes glued to the two of them.

            “You don’t have to tell me,” Dan grumbled. If he could help in some way. All he could think about were kids TV shows of ‘zany’ actions where kids pretended to be adults and got away with stuff.

            “Hold that thought,” Julia said. “What was that one with the newspaper?” As weird as it was to have no privacy, he was starting to get used to Julia picking his brain. The memory was of some little kids who dressed up like adults with obviously fake facial hair and pretended to be journalists to get into an event.

            “Dan, that’s genius,” Julia said. “No, I’m not crazy. Hear me out. We’re part of the school newspaper. All we have to do is use that to talk to Mayor Caldwell and Governor Greene. You and I can pretend it’s for school. Between the two of us, we can figure out how we’d be received.”

            He picked up her hands, pressing them to his chest. “Julia, will you do me the honor of conning politicians?”

            She rolled her eyes, pulling her hands off his chest. “Of course I’m going to. And thanks.”

            “Are you kidding? This sounds super fun,” Dan said.

            “No. Thanks for blocking that pervert’s view of me,” Julia said. “That’s pretty sweet.” Dan almost vomited in his mouth a little. He had just been doing it because the guy was a little weird. Julia would have psychic confirmation.

            “Haven’t you heard? I’m made of sugar,” Dan said. “Just make sure I’m out of the rain, though. I might melt.”

 

 

It had taken them all week, but they’d gone through most of Roman’s things. Elena had kept most of her husband’s things. Monique didn’t blame her. It was hard for their daughters to part with anything, either.

            But they’d managed to sort through Roman’s things. Most of his clothes were donated. Ana had been left most of his pocket watches, cufflinks, and tie pins in his will, which she finally collected. Monique took the rest. There was only one she really wanted. It was a gold tie pin set with a maroon stone. Very simple and elegant.

            Ana had almost been completely silent the whole time. She seemed more interested in listening to everything that poured from Monique’s mouth than discussing anything else.

            “You seem down,” Ana said. “Did something happen at the restaurant?”

            “Ana, you know how we used to get bullied in school all the time?” Monique asked. “I told you it stopped because no one recognized me in high school. That was only half true. _I_ was the bully in high school.”

            Ana kept sorting through Roman’s clothes. “I guess that makes sense.”

            What? Out of everyone, Monique had expected Ana to at least be disappointed. Maybe pissed enough to yell some expletives and crash at Bryce’s for a few days.

            “I was horrible! All that ‘take the high road’ stuff went out of my mind,” Monique said. “And that’s my legacy. I was a horrible person to people. I went to go apologize, and they all sort of just…didn’t care.”

            “Then that’s not your legacy,” Ana said. “A legacy is something that people remember you for. It’s something people care about. You’re not a bully now, are you?”

            “No,” Monique said. She leaned over, pressing the point where Ana’s jaw met her neck. “You’re really not mad? At all?”

            “This isn’t _Face Off_ ,” Ana snapped, swatting Monique’s hand away. “I’m not mad. A little disappointed in you. But that’s not who you are any more, right? So you have a chance now to make yourself known as who you really are. You have a chance to make it matter.”

            “You’ve been acting weird all week,” Monique said. Ana had this weird calm about her. She’d cut her hair. She’d actually worn jeans and normal t-shirts on a regular basis.

            “My powers aren’t what I thought they were,” Ana said. “And I…experienced a lot of things that have enlightened me.” Ana rolled tape over the box in front of her.

            “All of Dad’s stuff is done,” she said. “I suggest we start in on Mom’s stuff tomorrow.” Elena’s clothes were spilling out of her closet.

            “Agreed,” Monique said. Ana left the room, cool as a cucumber. And Monique was still left feeling hollow.

 

\---

 

White nasty breathmints. Swallow whole. Chewing not good. Breathmints make it better. Take the breathmints from Prince Charming.

            “John, are you okay?” Prince Charming asks. The fires are burning in his head. Not so much now. But still burning. “You feel burning?”

            Press temples. Feels good. Like breathmints will soon make to feel.

            “How is he?” Comfort Voice asks. Comfort Voice has no self. Wants to see Comfort Voice. Doesn’t want to see. So much burning.

            “He’s much more stable than he was last week,” Prince Charming tells Comfort Voice. Where are the horses? Did they dance in the fires? Two sides. A civil war. The fire cooled. It was not one fire, but two in the head.

 _Our head_ , they realized.

 

 

Clarissa was expectant when Brandy turned the corner. Cameron ran his hands through his hair.

            “He’s much more stable than he was last week,” Brandy said. “He doesn’t seem to be suffering any adverse effects, but we want to keep a close eye on him anyway.”

            “He still lights on fire at Vet Village,” Cameron pointed out. “Where are we going to keep him?”

            “We can’t have a man who can light on fire with a bunch of veterans,” Clarissa said. “Everything over there is flammable. The medication is working. We can move him to my shed.  
            “Your shed will just burst into flames with him,” Cameron pointed out. “We can have him live at the dump until he starts to stabilize more.” Clarissa pursed her lips.

            “He’s right,” Brandy admitted. “We can set him up with a nice…shack. And it’s not like there’s a lot of flammable stuff at the south side dump. It’s just a bunch of rusted cars.”

            “I’ll make sure he gets blankets,” Clarissa said, peering through the divider they had. Every time John saw her, he was good at first. And then he burst into flames and started destroying everything. And there was no more Bette to calm him.

            “Don’t visit him,” Brandy warned. “Just because he doesn’t necessarily want to hurt you doesn’t mean that he’s not capable of melting your face off by accident.”

            “But I can be there when you go, right?” Clarissa asked.

            “Of course you can,” Brandy said.

 

 

“You’re getting a lot done,” Greyson observed. Ana flipped three more files closed and set them on her ‘done’ tray.

            “It took you a week to notice,” Ana said. “I wondered when you’d break down and blurt it out. How long has it been tormenting you?”

            “Since you walked into work on time last week,” Greyson said. “What’s going on?” She didn’t blame him. She’d never been so productive. She’d had a fashion change. For all intents and purposes, she looked like a whole new person.

            “I went to a point in time and space where no time passes and yet infinity passes,” Ana said. “And I learned some things that enlightened me a little.”

            Greyson raised his eyebrow. He opened his mouth to speak. His words were cut off by Barry’s timely call. Ana raised it to her ear before Greyson could interject.

            “Greyson Investigations, Ana speaking,” she chirped.

            “It’s my lunchbreak,” Barry said.

            “I’ll be right over,” Ana said. She hung up. “I’m taking my lunchbreak.”

            “New guy?” Greyson asked, trying to fit ‘boyfriend’ to the changes Ana had made.

            “Not really,” Ana said, hefting her duffle onto her shoulder, checking to make sure she had all her personal training pads. On her way out the door, her phone started ringing again. “Greyson Investigations, this is Ana speaking.”

 

 

“If you’re looking for Ana, she already went home,” Cameron said.

            “I’m here for you,” Mike said. “How’re things? You know…since she died?” Cameron kneaded his forehead.

            “I don’t want to talk about it,” Cameron snapped. He didn’t mean to. Snap like the weak twig he was. Every mention of her sent him into a tailspin.

            “I just want you to know, if you want to go after Eiling, I’m right behind you,” Mike said.

            “Let’s just wait and see how John works out,” Cameron said. “It would be really nice to have him to melt through all of Eiling’s weapons.”

            Mike pulled a chair closer to Cameron’s desk. “He’s getting better?”

            “He hasn’t been setting things on fire as much lately,” Cameron said. “And he’s been more calm overall. Brandy says that a lot of his mental anguish is settling down.” Now if only Cameron’s mental anguish would settle down.

            “Do you think he could do something now?” Mike asked.

            “Not now,” Cameron snapped. “I want to rip Eiling’s heart out of his chest, but we can’t do that. He’ll see it coming. It’s not just an arm’s race or reaction time. It’s about patience.”

            “How do you know him?” Mike asked. “You weren’t in the Army or anything.”

            “I was on loan to the Army,” Cameron said. He’d been loaned to a demon by the Queen of Darkness, Amanda Waller. Cameron shuddered. Meeting Bette had been the only thing that had kept him alive. At first it was just her physical strength that kept him safe. Then it was her kindness that kept him sane. Her passion that made him love her.

            All gone now.

            “Maybe…some old friends of yours could help us out?” Mike asked.

            “I burned those bridges a long time ago,” Cameron said. Even if he hadn’t, he’d have to be dying to go back to Amanda for so much as a tissue. “We’re going to have to fight Eiling alone.”

 

 

“I can’t believe you got us in with Caldwell,” Julia whispered. “I thought it would take at least a week.” She tightened his tie. It was a little small. But maybe he’d be lucky and that was in.

            “I started talking about how we couldn’t get into a meeting with Mayor Bellows about election years and appealing to the younger generation, and the secretary wanted me in as fast as possible,” Dan said.

            “Please come in,” the assistant said. The two of them entered the old hardwood room. Mayor Caldwell was sitting on a leather armchair, and a familiar woman sat on another, the two separated by a little table. Dan and Julia stuffed themselves onto a cream loveseat.

            “It’s nice to meet you, Mayor Caldwell,” Dan said, shaking the mayor’s hand. Julia started audio recording on her smartphone. “And you are?”

            “Nicole Lambertson,” the woman purred. The truth was clear. That was the former Mrs. Lambertson. Dan recognized her from going in and out of her husband’s company. Or, rather, he would’ve if she looked about twenty years older and twenty pounds heavier.

            It wasn’t that ‘just had work done’ look. Nicole Lambertson appeared to have reverse-aged. And she was…working as Mayor Caldwell’s assistant? She had a stack of papers weighing her lap down and a jeweled Bluetooth jammed in her ear.

            Dan shook her hand. He felt a calm come over himself as their skin touched. Like all of his problems were just specs of dust. Every fiber of his being screeched one thing: _LIE_.

            Dan sat down, the illusion of calm still over him. His powers kept him sharp under the veil of calmness. Julia gave him an unsure smile, like she wanted him to start the interview. Dan focused his thoughts. _She’s a meta-human. Avoid touching her._

            “Thank you for your time, Mayor Caldwell, we just have a few questions that we picked out from our student body,” Julia lied.

 

 

Tom Hass looked a lot different without his swanky suit Mrs. Lambertson had made up for him. Or just a thief’s getup, period. Cocky bastard. But it was him. His mirth at singing Journey songs sobered when he saw her. He turned off the music.

            “Believe it or not, but I’ve never killed anyone,” he said, crossing his arms across his chest. “When you vanished, I thought you were dead. And then Nicole said that she saw you running around town.”

            Ana shoved her hands in her pockets. “How did you feel, thinking you’d killed me?”

            Tom’s eyes started to water. He pushed off from the counter, returning to the table where his lunch was. He took a bite. “So, back to try to beat me again?”

            “I’m here with a proposition,” Ana said. “Nicole’s power – she can manipulate emotions. But she can also absorb…vitality. She can make herself younger with it. But it’s like any other drug. Eventually, she needs to bump up the dosage to make it work. If she’s not careful, she’ll overdose on the stuff.”

            “She could die?” Tom asked, voice cracking a little.

            “Her and whoever she’s trying to suck dry,” Ana said. “I know a lot about her power. I could show her the extent of her abilities. At a price, of course.”

            “And what exactly do you want?” Tom asked.

            “I want what’s best for all of us meta-humans. I want Nicole to use her considerable sway in politics to convince the state to pass laws on protecting meta-humans,” Ana said. She pulled the papers out of her bag. “These and only these. Anything else or anything less, and she won’t hear a peep about her problem.”

            “You’re forgetting one thing,” Tom said. The gravity started to press down on Ana. Ana couldn’t count the hours she’d spent in the gravity chamber, training this part of her. Training until her nose bled and her joints begged for mercy. The floor creaked around her, but she stayed upright.

            “What?” Ana asked. Tom’s eyes were wide. “Did you realize that this benefits you, too? That if Nicole drops you like a hot pan that you’re going to need legal protection?” Tom looked down at the papers then back up at Ana.

            “Oh, and Tom, I need to let you know about the side effects of Nicole’s emotion-manipulation,” Ana said. “So you can warn her when to stop before she kills someone.”

            “And what are those?” Tom asked.

            “Wild mood swings, increased violence, paranoia, panic attacks, and nosebleeds,” Ana said. She pat his cheek. “I hope Mayor Caldwell isn’t experiencing any of that yet.” Tom’s face seemed to be drained of blood. Like he had just realized something.

            Ana took her leave. Meta-humans everywhere would be a little safer due to these small changes. Hopefully once they were implemented, the seeds of doubt would come into fruition.

 

 

Brandy finished the stitch. Neil licked a little blood off his lip, staring blankly at the wall. Brandy sighed. Every time he asked, Neil gave a lame excuse. This was the third time Neil had come to him so bloody.

            “I used to have this friend in college who got accused of beating his wife,” Brandy said. “When the police started investigating, they found out real fast that he wasn’t. She was beating him. She’d break his ribs every couple weeks. He never said anything because he’d started to believe that he was worthless. That he wasn’t a man.”

            Neil chuckled, itching his chin. “I sort of walk into it.”

            “No one deserves this,” Brandy said. “No matter what you’re being told, you don’t deserve to get hit. Neil, you have the whole group. We’ll help you out of this.”

            “It’s not domestic abuse. It’s a fight club,” Neil said. Brandy leaned back. Back in the ER, he’d helped identify a few victims of sex trafficking – women who were only accompanied by a woman who looked like her sister. He’d identified a few victims of abuse. But he’d never come across someone from a fight club.

            “They don’t even see me coming,” Neil said, a wry smile on his face. “Most nights, no one even catches me. But every once in a while someone does.”

            “Why the hell are you in a fight club?” Brandy asked.

            “Because it’s awesome money,” Neil snorted. “No one wants to see two normal guys beating the shit out of each other. Not when they can see two metas go at it. They pay through the nose for that.”

            “How does that work out?” Brandy asked. “What if someone electrocutes you? Burns your face off?”

            “Lethal powers aren’t allowed in the ring,” Neil said. “Which leaves guys like you and me. Or Mike. There’s this guy who can levitate. And a chick with super hearing. It makes things really interesting.”

            “You know, Mike’s powers aren’t technically lethal,” Brandy said. “But what if he reaches through someone’s chest and damages their heart? It doesn’t have to be on purpose. It could be on accident.”

            “I can handle myself,” Neil said. “Thanks for the patch-up.” He started to get up. He was starting to do his disappearing act. Or trying to. Brandy grabbed his arm.

            “One of these days, that fight club is going to get you in a hell of a lot of trouble. Or worse,” Brandy warned.

            Neil slipped out of Brandy’s grip. “It’s none of your business. Besides, out of sight is out of mind.”

            Neil seemed to melt into the room. Or he would have for anyone else but Brandy. Brandy could see the mental anguish and physical pain around Neil. The aura of his power floated around an empty space. Evidence that there was still someone in the room.

 

 

Pinko. Commie. Too white. Too black. Too tall – she must be a transvestite. Her hair was too curly and uncontrolled. She hung out with Ana the Dyke, so Monique must be a slut. It was all the tip of the iceberg of insults in middle school. Monique hadn’t been able to keep Ana from finding out about them, and the bullies had ended with split lips in the dumpster. That hadn’t really helped when trying to make friends.

            So the summer between middle school and high school, Monique had blown all her money on new clothes and makeup. She shot up five more inches. Her body filled out. And when she walked into high school, none of her bullies had recognized her. None of them had bothered to learn her last name.

            When had she turned into a bully? When was the first time she’d looked at someone and decided to unleash all hell on them?

 _Would it make any difference?_ Monique wondered. She was a terrible person. Looking back, every bit of charity since high school had been out of guilt. Most of the waitresses she’d ‘taken a chance on’ had been ones who resembled her victims.

 _I want to be a good person again_ , Monique thought. To be good just for the sake of goodness. Not because she would get a return customer. Not because she was trying to erase the crushing guilt. Not because she was trying to keep up the appearance of good. Not because she wanted to feel superior. But because it was just the right thing to do.

            “Are you okay?” Josh asked. “You’ve been staring at the same order for the past five minutes.”

            “I’m fine,” Monique said. Josh came over and leaned on the desk. The office was really too small for two people to be in there. But men who worked in food always seemed to be really good at squeezing themselves into tight spaces and avoiding running into hot things.

            “You don’t look okay,” Josh said.

            “I’m just coming to terms with being a bad person,” Monique said.

            “Like kill someone bad or asshole bad?” Josh asked.

            “Asshole bad,” Monique replied. “I think it’s been a decade since I did anything truly selfless. In high school, I was a huge bully.” Josh scraped his chin with his thumb.

            “What’s the most important thing to you?” Josh asked.

            “Ana,” Monique said. “Family.”

            “When my brother was trying not to go back to jail, he focused on what he cared about most: his kid,” Josh said. “And when my mom got her DUI and couldn’t get to work, she focused on what she cared about most: her job. I don’t think she could function without ten hours a day of people yelling at her.”

            “Your point?” Monique asked.

            “When they did something wrong, they didn’t start trying to be good using something they didn’t care about as motivation,” Josh said. “Start with your sister. Be good _to_ her. Be good _with_ her. Be good because you care about her and you want her to be proud of you. Whatever works for you. I’ve seen people clean up their hearts and acts because they had the right motivation.” Josh gave her shoulder a pat before leaving the office.

            Monique realized that she had only about twenty minutes to complete the order so that it would be shipped on time. She set the reflection aside for business.

 

 

“If you’re here to try to convince me that Ana’s right, you’ve got another thing coming,” Mike grumbled. He let Brandy in.

            “I don’t think either is a good idea. We need to come to a compromise,” Brandy said. “But that’s not the point. I need to ask a favor of you. I need you to talk to Neil.” Mike shut the door. Brandy made no move to remove his jacket or shoes. Or to move deeper into the apartment.

            “What’s wrong with Neil?” Mike asked. He leaned against his new metal wall art. It was surprisingly effective at keeping him from phasing through the wall by accident.

            “He’s in a fight club. One that pits meta-humans against each other,” Brandy said. “I didn’t get through to him today. I was hoping you could talk some sense into him.”

            “Dude, he could really get killed,” Mike said. He’d gone to some fight club sort of things before once or twice. He’d never been serious about it. He’d mostly done it for bragging rights. After his third time, he hadn’t gone searching for any of them again. People got more hurt than they realized.

            “Wait, why don’t you talk to him?” Mike asked. “You see his pain, right? Can’t you use that to…Jedi mind meld or something?”

            “My power doesn’t work that way,” Brandy said. “But…I can see the exact shape of his pain. And the exact shape of his power. Just like I can see them for your pain and power.”

            “Still waiting on why I’m doing this,” Mike said.

            “You both have similar long-standing pain. I see you guys a lot, and I can’t help but notice the similarity. And the similarity between your powers,” Brandy said.

            “I phase through stuff. Neil literally vanishes in front of you,” Mike said.

            “Not that part. The way it looks. There are some distinct differences between the two of you. But the shades of your abilities, the shape they take, the way they move when you’re using them – it’s very similar,” Brandy said. “I think the two of you may share some kind of…trauma? You two have something in common that links you more than what I have with Neil.”

            “What makes you think that our powers are tied to our pain?” Mike retorted.

            “Not our pain. Our personalities. I think something has happened to the two of you that has shaped you as people,” Brandy said. “And that, in turn, made your powers turn out the way they did. I think whatever changed his personality enough to make his power invisibility is the same thing that’s driving him to get the shit beat out of him.”

            The room felt too cold, even with a sweater on. It was like this completely average guy had looked into Mike’s very soul and read what was there.

            “I’ll talk to him, but it’s up to him,” Mike said.

            “That’s all I’m asking,” Brandy said.

 

\---

 

“Reports are coming out in Central City,” the reporter said. “Adults are turning into children? During a police standoff with criminal Tony Woodward, eyewitnesses say that many adults suddenly became children. Additionally, there have been twelve children alleged to have been adults turned into children who have gone to the hospital for cardiac arrest.”

            Ana paused the TV. The emergency meeting was being held in the apartment. The whole group had stuffed themselves into the tiny living room that could only comfortably sit four. Janice stood away from everyone else. She’d rather turn the water in the pipes to steam.

            “The media is taking this seriously,” Ana said. “Star Labs called me this morning. They’re working with CCPD and Mercury Labs to reverse this. When they finally reverse the effects, we’ll probably be facing exposure.”

            “A meta turned adults into kids. They had heart attacks, so what?” Neil asked. “They’re young. They’ll shake it off.”

            “All twelve of those people died,” Ana said. “We’re ahead of the revealing meta-humans. We have an opportunity to paint the picture we want.”

            “If it helps, we talked to Mayor Caldwell,” Julia said. “Yesterday. We were careful. He was honest about possible ability laws. He’d pass ones that would protect us.”

            “You talked to him? Without consulting us?” Mike growled.

            “We’re a pair of teenagers writing for our school paper. About what the young voter wants,” Dan said. “You really think he suspected anything? Cuz Julia didn’t pick anything up.” Silence crept over the group. Suram glanced at Janice, taking particular interest in her cup of coffee. Janice stepped further back from everyone else. The level of the liquid was down a whole inch.

            “If we speak up now, we risk getting targeted,” Suram said. “But we get a chance for our voice to be the loudest. If we don’t speak up now, we remain safe. But then we might not get a voice down the road. We may not get options. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I want to nip this in the bud.”

            “I have to agree,” Brandy said. “If we get a voice now, we have less to worry about later. Mike? Janice?”

            “I-I’m not so sure I want to be seen,” Janice said. “I don’t want people to know I have powers.” She didn’t want all the eyes on her. There would be no place for her to hide.

            “Why do we all have to come forward?” Mike demanded. “Okay, the government is about two steps from figuring this all out. But why do we all have to come forward?”

            “We don’t have to come forward,” Brandy said. “Not all of us, anyway. I can come forward.”

            “But your powers aren’t really…spectacular,” Julia pointed out. “I wouldn’t have believed them if I didn’t see them for myself.”

            “I’m not going forward,” Mike said.

            “Not me,” Neil said. It was a game of who was last to speak.

            “Do you trust me?” Ana asked. “Do you trust me to speak for you without saying a word?” Julia squinted hard at Ana. She looked like she was getting a headache.

            “What does that mean?” Mike asked.

            “It means that I have a plan, but the less you know the better,” Ana said.

            “What’s going on with your thoughts?” Julia asked.

            “I’m thinking in Russian,” Ana said. “Listen, what I have is surgical. The law will pass unquestioned. And god forbid something goes so wrong that someone actually gets in trouble, but that doesn’t need to be any of you.”

            “How…legal is it?” Brandy asked.

            “I guess…it’s in a grey area that my attorney will have to sort out,” Ana said. “Listen, we don’t have to do my plan. Just know that it’s an option that’s very time-sensitive. This is something that we have to decide now.”

            No one spoke. Julia didn’t seem to be prying into anyone’s head. They were all just…thinking. But how could they think? Janice thought the answer seemed obvious. Ana was offering to take the fall. To get this done. And no one had to come forward. Just Ana.

            For just a second, Janice was standing in the basement, the mist of blood all around her. She shivered. The cup of coffee in her hands was quickly receding. It didn’t have to be like that ever again.

            “Will anyone get hurt?” Janice asked.

            “The plan is that no one gets hurt,” Ana said. “I wouldn’t do it otherwise.”

            “Then do it,” Janice said.

 

 

“Neil, we have to talk,” Mike said. Neil chuckled.

            “C’mon, baby, don’t do this to me,” Neil teased. Mike smiled a little.

            “Brandy tells me you’re in a fight club,” Mike said. Neil groaned. “I’m not gunna tell you not to do it. He asked me to, but I’m not.”

            “Then why are you bringing it up?” Neil groaned. The two of them got into Mike’s car. Mike didn’t even start up the engine.

            “Because he said that our powers are kind of…similar. He thinks something that influenced our personalities made it that way,” Mike said. “I have a _big_ family, and I didn’t get this big until high school. It was easy to get forgotten. In school, I was just another face. I didn’t start trouble, and trouble didn’t really notice me. I just kind of…slipped through the cracks.”

            Neil picked at some stitches, staying silent. His form wavered, as if he was going to do his vanishing act, but kept deciding against it. Three was such a small number, but in minutes, it felt like forever watching Neil figure out what he was going to do.

            “It was like I didn’t exist to her,” Neil said, eyes on the radio. But he was seeing moments in his past. “And the less I existed to her, the less anyone else saw me. Out of sight, out of mind.”

            “Not with us,” Mike said, motioning between them. “Let’s promise each other that. If no one will watch our backs, we watch each other’s. We notice when the other one isn’t in the group. And we try not to be too hard on the group when they forget we’re there.”

            Neil held out a fist. Mike bumped it. Neil sniffed, “Deal. Can we get going?”

 

 

Nicole Lambertson was still looking young, but not for much longer. Not at the rate she was going through her victims.

            “Don’t ever use Tom as your errand-boy again,” Nicole sneered. “He’s not yours to use.” She used a stack of papers to fan herself. Ana stayed silent, only giving Tom a glace. He had a little blood around his nostrils. She looked back to Nicole.

            After a few seconds, Nicole snapped first. She threw her papers-fan at Ana, scattering them over the floor. “If you think I’m really going to have any of this shit passed, you have another thing coming. Tom, squish her, but don’t kill her. I need information.”

            “I can’t,” Tom said. “She’s…immune.” Nicole swiveled her head to Tom.

            “No one is immune to gravity,” Nicole snapped. She slapped him in the stomach.

            Tom held out his hand, as if to steady his powers. Ana let him go through the process of crunching up everything around her. The building itself shuddered under the weight of what he did. Nicole huffed, and Tom stopped.

            “Fine, I’ll pass your silly laws on one condition,” Nicole said. “The price has gone up. You’re not just going to tell me about my powers. You’re going to revoke my husband’s permission to use your intellectual property.”

            Ana shrugged. She ran to the door. “Have fun getting old, Nicole.”

            “Wait!” Nicole gasped, holding her chest. “Stupid, don’t you know how to negotiate?”

            “This isn’t a negotiation,” Ana said. “I gave you my offer. My only offer. You take it, or you don’t. I have nothing else for you, Nicole.”

            Nicole’s brow creased. “You tell me how to increase the time I spend young.”

            Ana shut the door and leaned on it. “That’s not the information I need you to know. Stop converting the…energy you get into youth. You’re going to get very old before you learn the secrets of youth.”

 

 

“You’re…Ana,” Monique verified. “Sort of.” The woman looked enough like Ana. Her nose was more straight, like it hadn’t been broken a million times. Maybe once or twice, but set quickly. She was almost entirely drained of color.

            “I’m her from another fractal,” Marina said. “It’s a different version of this universe that is both dependent and independent of this fractal.”

            “Why…are you talking to me?” Monique asked. “Doesn’t this go against every rule of time travel or something?” Were time police going to bust down the door and cart the two of them away?

            “In this case, I was asked to break this rule,” Marina said. “You are aware of meta-humans.”

            “Yes,” Monique said. She was allowed to come into the meetings, but she never had except for the one time. She was just so tired and overworked all the time.

            “I come from a place where we know almost everything there is to know about meta-humans,” Marina said. “Meta-humans can be made, as they were in the particle accelerator explosion. They can be the child of a meta-human. In every…version of this universe, there’s a common rule. Meta-humans that are made are rarely children. To see someone with abilities prior to puberty gain powers is unbelievably rare.”

            “What about Dan and Julia?” Monique asked. Did it count if they were going through it?

            “They count as children, and for me to find not just two of them, but over forty children with abilities is like finding a serum that gives you eternal life after you’ve woken from the dead without any outside help,” Marina said. “Adults with powers are dangerous enough, and some of them have a sense of restraint. Children often do not.”

            “Ana’s way better at that,” Monique protested.

            “Is she? Is she better at handling forty children? Would she do better with extra help?” Marina asked.

            “I have a business to run,” Monique said. Marina blocked her way, the way Ana might do, to get one last word in before Monique left. It made shivers run down her spine. This sheet white woman might not claim to be Ana, but she could fool Ana’s sister.

            “Who will teach them not to bully?” Marina asked. She stepped back, returning as she came, through a blue portal that snapped shut in an instant.

 

\---

 

They were a broken person. The twin fires raged. Too much power for one head. That fire wanted to burn about the Snow Queen. That one wanted to burn about the Comfort Voice. The fires did not like each other.

            They were a broken person.

            “Hey, John,” Prince Charming said. He pulled out an orange bottle. Not breathmints. Pills. Prescription.

            “Medicine,” they said.

            “Yes,” Prince Charming said. Gentle breeze. “You want your medicine?” He held out the pills. They took the pills. Dull the fire.

            “Thank you, Prince,” they said. The two fires were…agreeing. Yes. They could agree on manners.

            “You’re welcome, John,” Prince Charming said.

            “Not John,” they said. The fires flared a little. They held it in. They needed. It was missing. They needed. “Firestorm.”

            “Is that your name?” Prince Charming asked. They clutched their head. It was all jumbling up. The fires didn’t like each other. They curled up, burning.

            They were a broken person.

 

 

Nicole was a withered crone compared to the glowing young lass she’d been yesterday. Or, rather, she looked her age. She grinned.

            “I heard about the ‘fountain of youth’ power,” Nicole laughed. “This meta-human who can reverse-age people? I guess I won’t be needing to do you any favors.”

            “Maybe not for her,” Tom said. “But you’ll be needing to do favors for me.” Nicole reached out to stroke his side. Tom stepped away from her touch. Nicole began to grimace.

            “What?” she asked, still not quite getting it.

            “You promised me you weren’t using your power on me,” Tom murmured. Nicole hesitated, giving herself away.

            “I wanted you to love me back,” she pleaded. “Tom, don’t do this do me.”

            “You’re going to get those laws passed,” Tom growled. “Because right now, I don’t care if you live or die.”

            “Oh, and Nicole, good luck with that ‘fountain of youth’ power,” Ana said. “Since a lot of people who reverse-aged got a heart attack and died. Tom?” Ana motioned to the door. Tom followed her into the hallway.

            “Listen, I know you probably want her dead, but I can’t let you kill her,” Ana said. “Because then the rest of the meta-humans in my group wouldn’t want you there.”

            “I’m not joining your group of meta-humans,” Tom said. “I’m not saying I won’t spare her. But I’m not saying I will, either. You go your way, Ana. I’ll go mine.”

            “Fair enough,” Ana said, holding up her hands and backing away. “Good luck, Tom.”

 

 

They were a broken person. Only Princess Snow Queen made them whole. They left a flower outside the door for Her. They couldn’t find one that grew, so they made one.

            They kissed their fingers and touched the door. They had to stay away. No fires for Princess Snow Queen. She would melt. Melt like the flower.

            They would be whole again.

 

 

“I talked to your other self today,” Monique said, throwing another pile of Elena’s cardigans into the ever-growing pile of sweaters.

            “Marina?” Ana asked. “Did she tell you not to tell me?”

            “No. She said that there are a bunch of meta-kids out there, and you’re going to need help making sure that they don’t turn into bullies,” Monique said. A little color drained out of her face.

            “How many kids?” Ana asked. “How- how are there so many meta-kids?” Monique shrugged.

            “Not sure,” Monique replied, picking up a pile of skirts. At least if Elena’s closet was a mess, it was at least a semi-organized mess. Ana had purses all over her as she staggered towards the door, where the purse pile was growing exponentially.

            “You know, it kind of makes sense for you,” Ana said. “Since you wanted to be a social worker.”

            “Excuse me?” Monique asked. It sounded familiar.

            “Remember? In middle school, you wanted to help kids in the foster system. You thought it was awful the way that they didn’t get a permanent home. And there’s no guarantee that they get very good guardians,” Ana said, dropping all the purses.

            Monique remembered that she had decided she would take in foster children in place of having children. But now that Ana said it, she had a vague notion of wanting to be a social worker of some kind. It shook loose old facts about how kids relied on after-school care for help with homework and snacks.

            _Who will teach them not to bully?_

            “I want to help you,” Monique decided. She returned to the closet. It was, gratefully, almost empty. There were two old lock boxes. Monique set them on the bed. Ana fished some keys out of Elena’s jewelry box. The first had ‘Anastasia Ananyiv’ in Russian. Inside were pictures of Ana as a child. They appeared to be from an orphanage. Only one appeared to be from before that. A little baby was cradled between two people at a hospital.

            “Those are my biological parents?” Ana asked, squeezing up her face. “I don’t look like them.”

            “Elena never really looked like Aunt Valeria.” Monique countered.

            “Oh my god, I want to see pictures of you as a baby,” Ana said as if she just realized what the other box might contain. It was only inscribed with ‘Monique’. Monique abandoned the pictures of Ana.

            The two of them pulled out little booties and a newborn’s cap. They were made from ultra-plush cashmere. There was a locket with a turquoise stone set in the front. Monique fumbled twice before opening it. There were two grainy pictures. One of a black man. The other was of a white woman.

            “I found your parents,” Ana said, holding up another photograph of them. This was better than the ones in the locket. Her father had his arms thrown around her mother. They were grinning from ear to ear.

            Monique could pick out her features in them. She had her mother’s eyes, but when she smiled, they looked more like her father’s. She had her father’s lips, and she recognized his hairline. She had the same divot on the side of her head.

            “I look like them,” Monique said.

            “That’s not all,” Ana said, holding out an envelope. Monique could swear that it was her handwriting on the side of the envelope. She took it, turning it over. Two decades of grit sloughed off at her touch.

            She’d only just figured out what she wanted to do. What direction she wanted to go. And now she had the words of the woman who’d tossed her away. She’d wanted a few answers, and now they all seemed to be cropping up at once.

            “You want some time alone with that?” Ana asked.

            “No,” Monique said, replacing everything in her box. She picked it up. “I think I’ll take these.”

            “Okay,” Ana said. Monique was about to take her lockbox to her room. Ana blocked her path. “I know your mom gave you up. “But if I got a letter from my parents – our parents or my biological parents – I’d want the letter saved just in case I wanted it after I was done being mad.” She stepped to the side, letting Monique pass.

 

\---

 

“You got turned into a kid?” Ana asked. “That’s scary.”

            “Yeah,” Barry grunted, touching the bar one more time. He relaxed, flopping against the wall, hanging upside down. “Although, I was more scared about losing my friend.”

            “Ana, I’m glad you’re here,” Harrison said. “Could I spare a minute of your time?”

            “Sure. Barry, do another couple reps at normal speed,” Ana said. She followed Harrison into the hallway. They didn’t have to go far to get some privacy.

            “I was wondering if you could help the girl who…changed everyone’s ages,” Harrison said. “Help keep her under the radar. Help her control her powers.”

            “Of course,” Ana said. Dan and Julia were nothing compared to the flood of kids they were about to get. She was going to struggle to get help. She took Feylinn Dobb’s contact information.

            “Are you doing better?” Harrison asked.

            “Sort of,” Ana said. “I think…I’m going to help meta-humans with their powers.”

            “Not all heroes wear masks,” Harrison pointed out. “You’re going to do amazing.”

            “I can only hope,” Ana said.


	10. Power Surge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group deals with a lot of metas seeking help. Neil makes a miscalculation. Brandy has a new aspect of his power. Cameron is not unaffected by being kidnapped by Eiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those reading both Central City and Keystone: this chapter happens before the events in Central City Chapter 9 - Current (Events)

_Well, you volunteered to take on the whole ‘pass the laws in secret thing. Can’t you be the public face of meta-humans?_

_You’re the one who’s a personal trainer. You’ll probably end up training them anyway._

            It wasn’t that she didn’t want to help. But the reasons the group had for picking her for this seemed beyond flimsy. But, at the same time, they’d chosen her to protect them. And damn if she wasn’t going to keep them safe.

            “I think we’ll need more pens,” Janice murmured, worriedly looking at the packs of pens they had. Seeing her without her customary cup of coffee was almost intrusive. Ana hadn’t felt like she was intruding like this in years, and she had gotten a fair number of pictures of cheating spouses in the act.

            “Here,” Mike said, digging a few more out of his huge jacket. He pulled out a few wrenches and tools while he was at it. Brandy and Suram joined him, offering only a scant few more pens to the pile.

            “We’ll have to deal with it,” Ana said. “Do we at least have extra blank paper?” A murmur trembled behind the warehouse door, threatening to build to a dull roar or be dashed out all at once. They hadn’t expected this many.

            “Yeah,” Suram said, retrieving the paper from the trunk. “We might have enough.” He passed them to Ana, who started creating more forms.

            “They’ve all been sorted?” Ana asked.

            “We have some parents in there with their kids,” Brandy said. He looked at his hand. “I counted a hundred and eighty-seven meta-humans.”

            “And there’s now a hundred and eighty-seven forms,” Ana said. A few of them were singed on the edges. “Pass these out. I’ll make my dramatic entrance in a minute.” The men took the forms, dividing them as they went inside.

            “Are you ready for this?” Janice asked.

            “Not really,” Ana said. “Think I can back out now?”

            “Don’t,” Janice said, gripping Ana’s arm. “I forgot a coffee.”

            “I’m kidding,” Ana said. “If you want, I could grab you something.” Janice hesitated, but she shook her head. They’d been working on her nervousness. Up until the night of the particle accelerator explosion, Janice had been an almost full-scale agoraphobe. Her father had died that night, and she’d been forced into the world.

            “I can do it,” Janice said, almost as if to assure herself that she could, indeed, go in there and not make all the pipes burst with steam. Ana had a similar feeling when she smoothed down the collar of Bette’s jacket. She could do this.

            Ana slammed the door of the warehouse open. The murmur hesitated, almost hiccupping at her entrance. Ana hopped onto the folding table they’d gotten for just the occasion. The murmur died.

            There were more than two-hundred people. But if she discounted the adults with children, then there would be about two-hundred meta-humans.

            “We’re all here to learn how to deal with our powers. Filling out the forms lets us know how you want that to happen. Do you need help emotionally or do you need help controlling your power?” Ana said. “It also lets us know when you’re available so we can have group meetings for all of you. Anyone who doesn’t input at least some kind of schedule will be at the mercy of everyone else’s schedules. There’s spare paper up here for any of you who didn’t take a form. I’ll give everyone about five more minutes before we get this going.”

            Ana hopped off the table. Some people moseyed up to the front, some to get paper, some to turn in forms.

 

“I had high hopes for you,” Keith sighed. “I really did. My best fighter.”

            “It’s just one fight,” Neil panted. “I even offered to double fight the next week.” Keith’s fist dug into Neil’s stomach again. Neil tried to move with the motion, lessen the impact. It still hurt like a bitch. He almost hacked out his lung

            “You kids these days have no respect,” Keith growled. “I said that you’re going to fight. So you’re going to fight.”

            “People are getting suspicious,” Neil protested. “They’re talking about calling the cops. I just wanted a week off to try to let things cool down. Not have anyone looking into what I do every week.” Keith stroked his brass knuckles, waiting for Neil to offer more. He always wanted more. It was never, ever enough.

            “I could get someone to cover me,” Neil said. “Another meta-human. You know, like making sure someone at work covers your shift.” Keith cracked his neck.

            “Sounds like a fair deal,” Keith said. “But only if he’s interesting. Bring me someone with a really spectacular power. Something flashy. Something with lights. Everyone loves the powers with lights.”

            “S-sure,” Neil said. “But the only people I know like that have lethal powers.”

            “Bring them,” Keith said. “I think it’s time to upgrade this place.” One of the thugs released the metal cuffs holding Neil in place. “And Neil. Don’t think about running. It would be a shame if anything happened to your sister.”

            “Yeah. I know,” Neil said, rubbing the blood back into his hands.

 

\---

 

Brandy passed through the kitchen, into the little staircase that lead from Utkin’s up to Ana and Monique’s apartment.

            She was as he’d left her last night, still sifting through the piles of information.

            “How is it going?” Brandy asked.

            “Better,” Ana said. “I broke down and made an Excel sheet for the meeting times. I have everyone sorted into active and passive powers. Now I just have to get the two groups to get some times when I can get people together.”

            “I get why you’d want all the…active and passive powers separate for helping them use their powers, but for emotional stuff, why do they have to be separate? It’s not like Mike and Suram haven’t helped me use my power,” Brandy said.

            “I’m so stupid,” Ana groaned, turning back to the stack of forms. “I need training meetings versus emotional meetings.”

            “Hey, you’ve been up for, what, a day?” Brandy asked. “Go to bed. Nurse’s orders.” Ana gave her tanker of coffee a long look before laying her head down on the laptop.

            “Your room is literally down the hallway,” Brandy pointed out.

            “Carry me,” Ana pouted. Brandy pulled her into the fireman’s carry.

            “I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” Ana whined. Brandy gave her head a nudge against a wall.

            “Did Neil ever come by here last night?” Brandy asked.

            “Nope,” Ana said. “Not that I know of, anyway.” Brandy’s hair stood on end. He really didn’t like that. He checked his watch. Mike would probably be getting up by now. Brandy pushed into Ana’s room.

            “So…serial killer walls,” he said, depositing Ana on her bed.

            “They’re memories,” Ana said. “See? This section is the time I spent with this awesome chick, Linda. We did sports articles together. And over there are all the pictures of my mom and dad. And here’s my favorite picture of Ed the Fed.”

            “I’m just saying, most people with photos covering their entire room tend to be the ones everyone has to watch out for,” Brandy said. Ana kept staring at the walls. She leaned back, trailing her fingers along the multitude of pictures. She paused on one of ‘Ed the Fed’ – a tubby blond boy who smiled happily with a young, pimple-faced Ana.

            “I’d give anything to go back to any one of these moments and have it happen again. To be in that moment forever,” Ana murmured. She wasn’t in any pain when she said it. Actually, there was something…new. It was a color, but not the aura of a meta-human. Like pain, it pulsed through violet and orange. And then, it warped into the sludge Brandy had come to know as emotional distress.

            He shook his head.

            “Get some rest, Ana,” he said. “Maybe you’ll visit one of these memories in your sleep.” Ana rolled, turning into a blanket-burrito. Brandy left her to sleep. He didn’t bother locking the door behind him – Ana was probably better at fighting than the average thief.

            Brandy waved to Monique as he left the restaurant. She was covered in pulsing colors. Of course he was too busy staring at the pops of blue and green around Monique that he didn’t see the man walking in.

            “Sorry,” Brandy said.

            “It’s no problem,” the man said. He was a little shorter, lantern jaw, and a shock of blond hair. Most striking, though, was how the visual representation of his power was identical to Ana’s, save for the color. Hers was a light blue-gray. His was a vibrant red.

            “Everything okay?” the man asked.

            “Y-yeah,” Brandy said, stepping aside. The man passed him. Now that he stared, he could see minute differences. Ana’s power was more placid and restful. This man’s seemed violent and volatile. Did they have the same power? Was that even possible?

            Brandy pushed off the doorway, going to work. All the while he was haunted by thoughts of Neil and psychedelic spots.

 

The relentless clock kept ticking, grating against his brain. For once, Cameron had an interesting case, and he couldn’t make any progress.

            The ticking warped, elongating and twisting until it was an incessant dripping. Cameron didn’t quite feel…there. Like he wasn’t weighted down by his own body.

            “I’ll ask you one last time,” Eiling said. “Did you confirm if Bette was in Star Labs?” Cameron panted three times. Three more before the wand would strike. One, two, three- Cameron threw the clock against the far wall, shattering the hallucination.

            “Funny, you said you worked for the military, but you never mentioned getting PTSD,” Greyson said. He took a seat across from Cameron.

            “I don’t have PTSD,” Cameron snapped.

            “You’re not focused, you jump at every single noise, you’re angrier than normal, and I swear to god that you get triggered,” Greyson said. “So you’ve either always had it and your meds aren’t working, or something happened to you recently.”

            Cameron closed his eyes, trying to dispel visions of Eiling, visions of Bette’s violet face as she was lifted out of his arms.

            “I’m just a little stressed,” Cameron said, trying to disguise the lump in his throat as a rough way of speaking.

            “Bullshit,” Greyson drawled. “You can run from this, or you can face it head on. Your choice. But let me tell you this, son. If you get help and blow up, I’ll cover for you. But if you don’t get help and blow up, your ass is fired.”

            Greyson hauled himself out of the chair and waddled out of Cameron’s office, shutting the door behind him. Cameron immediately googled ‘ptsd’.

 

He’d seen Neil before. But this wasn’t like normal. This was the first time Mike felt like he could really, truly _see_ Neil. See that his hair wasn’t a dirty blond – it was very bright, actually. Or that Neil had a fair number of freckles. Or that his face looked like someone thought it was a punching bag.

            “What the hell?” Mike gasped, blocking Neil’s way. “You said you didn’t have a fight last night.”

            “I didn’t,” Neil said. Suddenly, Mike couldn’t quite make out the exact color of Neil’s eyes or the real shape of his jaw. “Just...stay out of it, Mike.”

            “Fuck no,” Mike growled. “Your face is hamburger, and you want me to stay out of it? I promised that I’d watch your back. This is not okay.” Neil squeezed around Mike, slipping to his apartment.

            “It’s not your problem,” Neil insisted. He was in his apartment in just a moment, and the door locked behind him.

            “Oh, hell no,” Mike growled. He stepped right through the door, his clothes staying out in the hallway. Neil groaned.

            “I can’t have privacy in my own home?” Neil yelled into the wall.

            “I’m not going to let this drop,” Mike said. “Who the fuck did this to your face?” Neil’s form wavered. Mike lunged, trying to grab him before he moved. And then Neil was gone, and Mike had his hands swiping through empty air.

            “Just because you’re out of sight doesn’t mean you’re out of mind,” Mike called. Neil could have this round. He’d be back.

 

It was hard to imagine that something so small could cause so much pain and heartache. Maybe wreak havoc, which she’d done. But never kill so many. Feylinn traced her finger along the grains of wood.

            “I hurt people,” she said. There was too much weight in those words as she spoke. Too much for a child to be carrying.

            “Did you want to hurt them?” Ana asked.

            “I wanted to hurt her,” Feylinn said. “She wouldn’t let me go. The big man threw things around. And then the man in red stepped on me.” Feylinn’s lower lip started to wobble.

            “That sounds…terrifying,” Ana said. “Getting powers, being kidnapped by a family member, getting in the middle of a fight between a bad guy and a superhero – you’ve been really brave through all of it.”

            Feylinn shrugged. She wiped away the tears that threatened to spill over.

            “You know what I think? I think you were scared, and you tried to protect yourself with a power that you didn’t understand or know how to control,” Ana said. “You did the best that you could in a really crappy situation.”

            “I could’ve done something else,” Feylinn said.

            “Like what?” Ana asked. “Do you know kung fu?”

            “I’ve seen some movies,” Feylinn said. Ana laughed.

            “I know some kung fu, and let me tell you, it’s not like the movies,” Ana said. “The whole ‘wax on wax off’ only helps so much.”

            “So what does help?” Feylinn asked.

            “Practice,” Ana said. “Why don’t you and I practice your abilities?”

            “But won’t you die?” Feylinn asked.

            “My power will protect me,” Ana said. “So, you want to try turning me into a kid?”

 

Neil didn’t help too often with John, but he knew enough to know where Brandy had set him up. They’d figured that even if the cars had tanks full of gas, he wasn’t near anyone he could hurt. And he wasn’t sane enough to let anyone know about the fights.

            A fire whipped up in front of Neil. He felt where he had to move. Just a little to the left. Now he was gone. Vapor to observers.

            John twitched, glaring at the spot where Neil had been standing. Neil slowly stepped away from the flames, not making a noise. When he reappeared, John raised his fiery hands.

            “Hold on,” Neil said. He pulled out a handful of mints. John’s fires died down. He came for the breathmints like the stupid junkie he was. Neil paced backwards, making John follow him.

 

“What are you doing?” Monique asked.

            “You take a lot of time off the restaurant,” Ana commented.

            “You’re mistaken,” Monique said. “Even with Megan and Josh, I still need more managers. Especially if I’m going to help with all these meta-kids.”

            “What if I have to take a lot of time off Greyson’s?” Ana asked. “These people are going to need a _lot_ of help.” Monique started bustling around the kitchen, making herself lunch.

            “We’ll figure it out,” Monique said. “I mean, I kept this whole thing running without your financial input for seven and a half months. I think we can manage for a good while.”

            “Even with my increased diet?” Ana asked.

            “You have a savings account,” Monique pointed out. “You’re welcome to use it. Speaking of things you’re welcome to use, why aren’t you using the schedule software?”

            “What schedule software?” Ana asked. Monique pointed to an icon of a calendar with a face on it. When Ana pulled it up, it immediately wanted to import her latest spreadsheet. After she allowed it to import the hours of work, the program seemed to freeze.

            “It’s taking a long time because you have so much data. This program can help you generate schedules based on just about anything,” Monique said. “And you can go in and add more variables or whatever.”

            “I’m also worried about just one other thing-”

            “I don’t have powers?” Monique asked.

            “The adults know to hold back – or to try to. The kids are more likely to throw a temper tantrum,” Ana said. “They could seriously hurt you. At least if it’s me, I can jump out of the way.”

            “Then we’ll help the kids together for sure,” Monique said. “Or, if you can’t be there, maybe you can assign some big strong meta-human to protect me.”

            “I see what you’re after. I’ll do what I can. I can’t promise anything, though,” Ana said. The software finished the data transfer. “That’s something I should put in as a sorting thing. Being a kid or not.”

            “Is anyone else helping you with this other than me?” Monique asked. “You could make schedules for them, too.”

            “I think it’ll be you and me for a while,” Ana said. Well, the two of them and a couple of time masters.

 

“Oh, my gawd,” Brandy said, mimicking a valley girl. “Is that a rock on your finger? Did Beckah propose?” Ethan held out his left hand, especially proud of the plain gold band on his ring finger.

            “I mean, like, she totally proposed,” Ethan said. He had almost no sludge on him, only popping spots of aubergine and indigo. But he didn’t appear to have a meta-human aura. “Please tell me that’s not a hospital lunch.”

            “This is absolutely a hospital lunch. I was out late last night,” Brandy said, wishing he’d been smart enough to pack a lunch before going to the meta-meeting.

            “With…some lady?” Ethan asked, sliding into a chair.

            “A…self-care group,” Brandy said, trying to make it clear that he didn’t want to talk about it. “You guys are getting married.”

            “Yeah, it only took us twelve years,” Ethan said. “I think the whole meta-human thing has her spooked. But I’ll take it.” Brandy’s heart squeezed.

            “She makes it sound like the world is ending,” Brandy said. He noticed the color spots around Ethan were starting to dim.

            “The nurses in the ER realized that some of the injuries we’ve been getting might be meta-related,” Ethan said. “So maybe the world isn’t ending, but it’s changing. And people are scared of change.”

            “Do you think you’ve met any meta-humans?” Brandy asked.

            “Maybe,” Ethan said, shrugging. “The only thing is, if no one is using powers, how do we know that this isn’t some hoax? And even if it isn’t, we don’t have bank robberies every other day, so either most of them don’t have the power to rob banks or they have the common decency not to rob everyone blind.”

            “That’s a good way of putting it,” Brandy said.

            “Why, do you think you’ve met a meta-human?” Ethan asked.

            Brandy shrugged. “It’s hard to tell. I mean, it’s like you said, if no one is using their powers, how do we know it’s not a hoax?”

            Ethan leaned in, making his voice go low and smooth. “Please tell me that you’re trying to say that you’re a meta-human.” Brandy stared at Ethan, hoping to convey that he thought Ethan was crazy.

            “You’re a meta-human!” Ethan whispered. “What do you do?” Brandy opened his mouth, intending to spill out lies. Lies to probably the closest person to him right now. What did it matter if Ethan knew? It wasn’t like Brandy intended to tell him about the others.

            “Just because I have powers doesn’t mean they’re fun to have,” Brandy said. Ethan leaned back.

            “Your whole ‘cutting everyone off’ thing – your powers were in full effect then,” Ethan said. “Fair enough. I mean, I don’t think it’s not kick-ass that you have those powers. But we might want to do something about the ER. They’re really starting to talk shit about meta-humans.”

            “‘We’?” Brandy asked.

            “Yeah. ‘We’. I mean, Jenna wants us both back in ER,” Ethan said. Brandy had very little concern about the staff in the ER. He was having an epiphany so strong that he thought he might pass out from the blood rushing to his head.

            Meta-humans couldn’t all be similar enough to normal people to be able to get all the same treatments. After some of the people he’d seen last night, more than a few of them probably needed a medical professional to look at them.

            “I’ll worry about them later,” Brandy said. He felt like his mind was racing. “I think I have an idea.” He started to write down his idea on the back of a receipt.

 

One, two, three. Brace for electrocution. The wand didn’t come down on his chest. Eiling wasn’t there, just a freaked out barista.

            “Are you okay?” the barista asked. Cameron realized that he was gripping the counter too hard, panting like he was having a heart attack.

            “I-I’m fine,” he said. “H-how much do I owe you?”

            “You haven’t ordered yet,” she said.

            “I-nothing for me,” Cameron said. He walked away, jamming his hands into his pockets. Cameron fled from the café, hoping he never had the misfortune of returning.

            _There…maybe…might be a smidge of truth in what he said._

            He was definitely having issues focusing, and that wasn’t going to be a benefit when taking down Eiling. He could have his pride or revenge. There was no having both.

 

Keith clapped. “Excellent!”

            John hadn’t been too thrilled when he realized that Neil was giving him a tic tac. He sulked in the corner, opening and closing his fist. As he did, it blazed and dimmed.

            “I have to take him back,” Neil said. “But I’ll bring him for the fight.”

            “Why would I ever let you take him back?” Keith asked. “He’s what I’ve been waiting for.” Neil’s stomach sunk to the floor.

            “Keith, if I don’t return him, people are going to come after me and you,” Neil said. “I can bring him for fights-” Keith threw the punch. Neil ducked, falling against the wall behind him.

            “You’re going to tell me who they are and how to beat them,” Keith said. His cronies took steps towards Neil.

 

“What’s the emergency?” Ana asked. The junkyard wasn’t on fire. “Did John step on a rusty nail or something?”

            Brandy folded his arms over his chest. “Notice anything?”

            “John’s not here,” Ana realized. “Did Clarissa take him?”

            “I just called her. And Cameron,” Brandy said. “I can’t tell if he walked away or what.”

            “Maybe…he remembered who he was?” Ana asked. “He was getting a lot more stable. And there aren’t really any signs of a struggle.”

            “How can you tell?” Brandy asked. Ana pointed to the scorch marks on the bare ground and some junk. It looked like a big ball of fire hit the ground. Ana traced the air above where some footprints were, perilously close to the fire. There were no other clear footprints.

            “Looks like a men’s…ten. Maybe eleven,” Ana said. “I’ll check the security tape.”

            “We picked this junkyard because there isn’t a tape,” Brandy pointed out. Ana was already walking out of the junkyard.

            “I didn’t mean that tape,” Ana said. Brandy followed her into the deli across the street. She strolled right up to the man at the counter as if she owned the place.

            “I’d like to speak to the owner,” she said.

            “You’re looking at him,” the man said, smiling. “What can I do for ya?”

            “My name is Ana Utkin. I’m a private investigator,” she said, keeping her voice down. “I’m not sure you’ll want me to say the rest in front of your customers.”

            “You can say it here,” the owner said, putting both hands on the counter.

            “A mentally unstable man escaped his guardian’s custody earlier today,” Ana said. “His nurse and I have tracked him this far. We were hoping you would allow us access to your security cameras so we can find him.”

            The owner cleared his throat.

            “How dangerous is this guy?” the owner asked.

            “More dangerous to himself,” Brandy said, trying to play along. “But we’d like to get ahold of him quickly, just in case.” The owner glanced at his clients.

            “His family is very worried, sir,” Ana said. “I only need to see what happened outside your store.”

            “Ah, you don’t have to twist my arm,” the owner said. “C’mon back. I can’t let you take the tape, but I can let you take a look.”

 

Ana trudged in.

            “Hey,” Monique said. “I hope you don’t mind. I started to organize your meta-human stuff. And I added a few more columns. There were a lot of requests for medical attention. A good number of people are having trouble with prescription doses.”

            Ana grabbed out a bottle of volka. She poured it right into her mouth.

            “That kind of day, huh,” Monique said.

            “Yeah,” Ana said. “John was kidnapped.”

            “The fire guy? _How_?” Monique asked. Ana shook her head and took another drink. As she wiped her mouth, she had some presence of mind to put the volka back and pour herself some scotch in a glass. She took a seat in Roman’s chair.

            “So what’s this about working on my scheduling?” Ana asked. “I was going to do it.”

            “I know. It’s just…I like being the one who’s good at being organized,” Monique said. “Besides, it took you all night to go through these papers and it took me an hour.”

            “You’re my favorite sister,” Ana said, sticking out her lower lip.

            “Oh, thanks,” Monique laughed. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

            “Thank you, dahling,” Ana said. “Did you read the letter?”

            “I’ve decided to ignore it,” Monique said. “I’m not going to find my legacy in a letter from a woman who I don’t know and who doesn’t know anything about my life. I’m going to make it by working with my sister to make sure that meta-kids don’t grow up to be bullies.”

            “Wise words,” Ana said. “Any words to keep me from murdering someone tomorrow?”

            “In the wise words of Roman Utkin: don’t mistake ignorance for malice,” Monique offered. Ana clinked the scotch around in her glass.

            “You have me there,” Ana said.

            “Here’s some more wisdom,” Monique said. “Why don’t we catch you up on _Game of Thrones_?”

            “There’s more!” Ana gasped.

            “Will you make popcorn?” Monique asked.

            “You can make it yourself,” Ana said.

            “But I like the way _you_ make it,” Monique said, batting her eyelashes.

            “I don’t fall for that anymore,” Ana said, getting to her feet. “But I’ll do it because you made the schedule for me.”

            “Don’t forget the M&M’s,” Monique said. She reached over and stole Ana’s drink. Ana rolled her eyes.

            “You are so spoiled,” Ana said, going to the kitchen.

            “I love you,” Monique laughed.

 

\---

 

Neil could press himself against the wall and be invisible all he liked, apparently he was _not_ invisible to Brandy. Brandy ignored the note on the counter and made a b-line for Neil.

            Neil tried to push past, but Ana was there. She was so damn small. Even as she was pinning him down, he couldn’t believe that she had all that power in that tiny little body.

            “You can either tell us the story – the truth – or I can beat John’s location out of you,” Ana said. “Your choice.” She had him in some kind of hold with his hands behind his back. She had one foot on an ankle. That foot was getting numb.

            “Okay, okay,” Neil said, appearing. “Just let me go.” Ana got off him. Mike burst in. He towered over Ana, glaring. She ignored him, having eyes only on Neil.

            “What the fuck is going on?” he demanded.

            “Last night John went missing,” Brandy said. “And we found security footage of Neil luring John away.”

            “I tried to ask the guy who runs the fights for a week off,” Neil said. “He said that I couldn’t have a night off unless someone took my place. He wanted a lot of lights. So I…showed John to him.”

            “Why didn’t you ask me for help?” Mike demanded. “I would’ve done it for you.” Neil swallowed hard, not looking at any of them. This wasn’t any old screw-up. He’d seriously gone in deep this time.

            “Because you guys are my friends,” Neil said. “Or the closest I have to friends.”

            “Start from the beginning,” Ana said. The three listened to Neil as he related the winding tale of what a bully Keith was.

            “It doesn’t matter that you’re not friends with John,” Ana said. “You turned your back on a member of this group. We can’t have that. And I can’t be dealing with this. I have a full-time job and about a hundred and fifty meta-humans who want my help.”

            “We’ll deal with it,” Mike said.

            “Y-yeah,” Brandy said. “Today’s my day off. I can help get John back from a shady underworld figure.”

            “We’re telling the original group, too,” Ana said. “This can’t go unpunished.” She stormed out. When she slammed the door behind her, a mirror fell off the wall.

            “We’re going to need more help,” Mike sighed. “Who are we supposed to get help from?”

            “I’m not sure about this, but steam doesn’t really have an upper limit of heat,” Brandy said.

 

“And the electricity lasts for six hours?” Ana asked.

            “Approximately,” Derik replied. “I’ve never tried to go over the limit. But I can tell when I’m getting close.”

            “Are you having any trouble dealing with having to absorb the energy?” Ana asked.

            “Not really,” Derik said. “I mean, copper was killing me. Now it’s my saving grace. I’m a little worried about the…electric thief.”

            “Electric thief?” Ana asked.

            “Yeah. He’s been stealing people’s powers,” Derik said. “And then he uses them to commit crimes.”

            “How do you know this?” Ana asked.

            “A few of us with electric powers…recognized each other,” Derik said. “Not everyone with an electric power knows others with similar powers. But we got to talking the other night. Some of them mentioned getting their powers stolen. So we compared notes.”

            “Do you think you’re going to be targeted? I mean, I can’t imagine that your power would be super useful for anyone else,” Ana pointed out.

            “Maybe not, but it’s not like we can just tell what kind of powers others have,” Derik said. “I can tell your power is electric-based, but I can’t tell what it is.”

            “What else happens with the powers? Is it stolen permanently?” Ana asked.

            “No,” Derik said. “It takes about twelve to forty-eight hours for the powers to return. Hence why I’m so scared. For some reason, some of the others recover their powers while the theif has their powers.”

            “Well, I can’t use timing to help narrow down who’s the next target,” Ana said. “I can see what I can do about protecting you. But there are a lot of meta-humans to protect. Maybe you can hang out with one of the other electric metas? Maybe they can protect you?”

            A woman knocked at the door. Derik jumped a little. “Ah, yes. I can do that. Thank you very much for your time, Ana.”

            “You’re welcome, Derik,” Ana said, shaking Derik’s hand. “I’ll see you next week. Next.”

 

“What?”

            They could probably repeat it all day, and it still wouldn’t sink in. Neil sold John to a criminal. Exchanged for his life, yes. But he could’ve gotten help from Mike or Ana.

            “Can you tear yourself away from this?” Brandy asked. Janice pat the various papers and books on her desk, each stacked neatly and precisely. There was nothing for her to organize. Nothing for her to easily set right. No excuse that immediately came to mind. No. There was one.

            “I-I’m at work right now,” Janice said. “A-and you three should be at work, too.”

            “After work?” Mike asked. “We could really use your help.”

            “I-I just make steam,” Janice sputtered. She grabbed her mug of coffee. “What am I supposed to do?”

            “The location is underground, and there are a lot of pipes,” Neil said. “If you can make a few burst, we might have an edge.”

            “If you get caught in the steam, your skin will burn off,” Janice murmured.

            “Not me,” Mike said. “Please?”

            “Just the pipes?” Janice asked. The basement loomed in her mind.

            “What else is there to turn to steam?” Neil snorted. Janice rolled the mug between her hands. The level was decreasing more rapidly than she’d like.

            “I get out at six,” Janice said. “I’ll only come if you three make a plan. A real plan, not just ‘go in and attack’.”

 

“You can’t back out now,” Keith said. “So why are you trying?”

            “I want to know if there’s anything I can do to get him back,” Neil said. “People are starting to talk.”

            “Who would talk because of this monster?” Keith laughed. “He’s just a wild animal. There’s nothing inside that head.”

            “Well, some meta-humans would talk about him,” Neil said.

            “Stupid morons,” Keith spat. The room started to groan. Neil felt the tingle spread over the back of his skull. And then he was gone. He ran down the hallway. The room behind him exploded with steam. Mike blew past him. There was a struggle in the room.

            And then John got loose. John roared, throwing fire all over the quickly dampening hallway. Neil kept going, hoping to outrun John more than the steam. He billowed out, flying by Neil. No, literally flying. Neil pat his burning sleeve. He threw himself to the ground and rolled in the filthy water.

            “Fuck!” Neil screamed.

            “Neil!” Mike called. He thudded down the hallway. Neil was picked up by the front of his jacket, tucked under Mike’s behemoth arm like a football, and carried to safety.

 

“Where do you want my latest cases filed?” Ana asked.

            “Let me see,” Cameron snapped. Even with her powers, she couldn’t get work done _that_ fast. She handed over all the files. They were all intact and filled out correctly at a glance. “You came in late. How did you-”

            “It’s called powers,” Ana said. “I remembered the billing addresses and everything. And I already submitted the information to Greyson for you.”

            “Did you remember to call the clients?” Cameron asked.

            “That’s next on my list,” Ana said. Cameron handed back the files.

            “Don’t give them to me until after the client is done with you,” Cameron said. Ana took the files, hesitating.

            “Hey, Cameron, if you’re struggling with Bette or anything…else, you can talk to me. Or whatever,” Ana said, running her hand over the back of her neck.

            “What else would I need help with?” Cameron snorted.

            “You were tortured,” Ana pointed out. “If you weren’t having nightmares, I’d want you to take the tour test.”

            “You mean the ‘Touring test’,” Cameron corrected. “And I’m fine. But points for knowing what the Touring test is. Here’s an invisible gold star.”

            “Okay, be a sass,” Ana said, holding up her hands in surrender. “I’ll just be at my desk, calling clients, remembering the good times.” She backed out of his office, shutting the door quietly behind her.

            He needed no one. Only his revenge.

 

“If you ever fucking do anything like this again, you will not have to hide from Ana,” Mike snarled.

            “No kidding,” Neil panted. Brandy smeared more ointment on Neil’s wound. Neil hissed.

            “I didn’t hurt anyone else, right?” Janice asked, gripping her cup like her like her life depended on it. She kept her distance from them, as if she were a bomb.

            “Only the bad guys,” Mike said. He wiped sweat from off his brow. “You did good, Jan. Can I call you Jan?”

            “Sure,” she shrugged. “Do you think John will be back?”

            “He can fly,” Neil pointed out. “I don’t think he’s coming back.”

            “We’ll see,” Brandy said. John liked the medications. Or at least he knew that they did something good for him. He welcomed them. Looked forward to them. Neil wouldn’t have been able to lure him away if it wasn’t the case.


End file.
